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BERNINI  AND  OTHER  STUDIES 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  • BOSTON  ■ CHICAGO  • DALLAS 
ATLANTA  • SAN  FRANCISCO 


MACMILLAN  & CO.,  Limited 

LONDON  • BOMBAY  ■ CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 
Getty  Research  Institute 


https://archive.org/details/berniniotherstudOOnort_O 


Plate  I. 


<*> 


BERNINI  AND  OTHER  STUDIES 


IN  THE 

HISTORY  OF  ART 


BY 

RICHARD  NORTON 

MUSEUM  OF  FINE  ARTS,  BOSTON 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  AND  COMPANY 
1914 


All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1914, 

By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.  Published  October,  1914. 


Norinooh  IPrcss 

J.  S.  Cushing  Co.  — Berwick  & Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  TJ.S.A. 


THE  GETTY  CENTER 
LIBRARY 


PREFACE 


The  essays  presented  in  the  following  pages  are  the  prod- 
uct of  no  hasty  thought.  I am  grateful  to  the  kind  friends 
who  have  encouraged  their  publication,  and  to  the  publishers 
for  giving  them  so  attractive  a form. 

The  choice  of  illustrations  has  been  difficult.  It  has 
seemed  best,  however,  to  reproduce  in  full  the  little-known 
sketches  of  Bernini  showing  the  development,  in  his  mind,  of 
the  design  for  the  Piazza  of  St.  Peter’s,  and  the  sculptor’s 
models  wrought  by  his  own  hands.  For  the  rest  I have 
thought  that  it  would  be  more  serviceable  for  the  reader  to 
have  a few  typical  examples  illustrating  the  main  points  of 
the  text  rather  than  a larger,  and  perhaps  more  confusing, 
selection  of  subjects  from  the  almost  inexhaustible  wealth  of 
available  material.  I am  under  deep  obligation  for  the  gen- 
erous permission  to  include  among  the  illustrations  material 
in  the  Brandegee  Collection  (at  Faulkner  Farm,  Brookline, 
Massachusetts)  hitherto  unpublished.  The  heliotype  plates 
were  prepared  and  printed  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  William 
C.  Ramsay,  of  Boston. 

RICHARD  NORTON. 

London,  July,  1914. 


CONTENTS 

BERNINI 

I.  An  Estimate  of  Bernini 3 

II.  A Collection  of  Sculptor’s  Models  by  Bernini  . . 44 

III.  Bernini’s  Designs  for  the  Piazza  of  St.  Peter’s  . . 50 

ASPECTS  OF  THE  ART  OF  SCULPTURE 

I.  The  Art  of  Portraiture,  particularly  in  Sculpture  . 57 

II.  Pheidias  and  Michael  Angelo 93 

III.  A Head  of  Athena  found  at  Cyrene  ....  135 

GIORGIONE 

I.  Paintings  attributed  to  Giorgione  .....  155 

II.  The  Tree  Giorgione 172 


INDEX  . 


. 215 


PLATES 


PLATES  I AND  II.  PORTRAITS  OF  BERNINI 

NUMBER 

I.  Bernini.  Pencil  Drawing,  by  himself  (p.  12) ; Brandegee 

Collection  .......  Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

II.  Portrait,  formerly  thought  to  be  of  Velasquez,  probably  of 

Bernini  (p.  12,  footnote  3) ; Capitoline  Gallery,  Rome  . 4 

PLATES  III-X.  WORKS  OF  BERNINI 

III.  dEneas  and  Anchises  (p.  16) ; Borghese  Collection,  Rome  . 8 

IV.  David  (p.  17)  ; Borghese  Collection  . . . . .12 

V.  Proserpina  and  Pluto  (p.  17) ; Borghese  Collection  . . 16 

VI.  Apollo  and  Daphne  (p.  17)  ; Borghese  Collection  ...  18 

VII.  Angel  with  the  Crown  of  Thorns  (p.  25) ; Church  of  S.  Andrea 

delle  Fratte,  Rome  . 22 

VIII.  Angel  with  a Scroll  (p.  25) ; Church  of  S.  Andrea  delle  Fratte, 

Rome  ..........  24 

IX.  Saint  Theresa  (p.  30)  ; Church  of  S.  Maria  della  Vittoria, 

Rome 30 

X.  Louis  XIV  (p.  39) ; Versailles 38 

PLATES  XI-XXVII.  SCULPTOR’S  MODELS  BY 
BERNINI;  BRANDEGEE  COLLECTION 

XI.  Female  figure  in  relief,  with  helmet  (p.  46,  No.  1)  . . .44 

XII.  Figure  of  Longinus,  for  St.  Peter’s  (p.  46,  No.  2)  . . .44 

XIII.  Putti,  for  the  decoration  of  the  piers  in  St.  Peter’s  (p.  47, 

Nos.  3 and  4) 44 

XIV.  Two  saints,  for  the  Ciborio  in  the  Cappella  del  Sacramento 

in  St.  Peter’s  (p.  47,  Nos.  5,  7)  . . . . .46 

XV.  Two  saints,  for  the  Ciborio  in  the  Cappella  del  Sacramento 

in  St.  Peter’s  (p.  47,  Nos.  6,  8) 46 

XVI.  Bas-relief  with  half-figures  (p.  47,  No.  9)  . . .46 

ix 


X 


PLATES 


XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX-XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 


Half  figure  of  a Triton  holding  a woman  on  his  shoul- 
ders (p.  47,  No.  10) 46 

Study  for  the  head  of  the  St.  Jerome  in  the  Duomo 

of  Siena  (p.  47,  No.  11) 46 

Models  of  Angels  (pp.  47,  48,  Nos.  12-21)  . . 48 

Standing  male  figure  in  high  relief  (p.  49,  No.  22)  . 48 

Oval  bas-relief  of  the  Virgin  (p.  49,  No.  23)  . . 48 

Standing  female  figure,  and  standing  Angel  (p.  49, 

Nos.  24,  25) 48 


PLATES  XXVIIIXL.  BERNINI’S  DESIGNS  FOR 
THE  PIAZZA  OF  ST.  PETER’S;  BRANDEGEE 
COLLECTION 


XXVIII.  Orb,  surmounted  by  a cross ; outline  of  a crucified 

figure  (p.  51,  Nos.  1,  2)  . . . .50 

XXIX.  Outline  plan  of  St.  Peter’s  church  correlated  with  a 
figure  on  a cross  above  lines  suggesting  the  col- 
onnades (p.  52,  Nos.  3,  4)  . . . . .50 

XXX.  More  complete  correlation  of  the  crucified  figure  with 

St.  Peter’s  church  (p.  52,  Nos.  5,  6)  . . .50 

XXXI.  Outline  elevation  of  north  half  of  the  fagade  of  St. 

Peter’s,  with  the  colonnade  (p.  52,  No.  7)  . .52 

XXXII.  Sketches  of  the  north  colonnade  (p.  53,  No.  8)  . . 52 

XXXIII.  More  elaborate  sketch  of  the  north  colonnade  (p.  53, 

No.  9) 52 

XXXIV.  Outline  sketch  of  the  outer  end  of  the  north  arm  of 
the  colonnade,  treated  as  if  in  two  stories  (p.  53, 

No.  10) 52 

XXXV.  Interior  of  inner  end  of  north  arm  of  colonnade  (p.  53, 

No.  11) 52 

XXXVI.  Plan  and  elevation  of  the  Cortile  di  S.  Damaso  (p.  53, 

No.  12) 54 

XXXVII.  Fagade  of  St.  Peter’s,  with  both  colonnades  treated 

as  if  in  two  stories  (p.  53,  No.  13)  . . . 54 

XXXVIII.  View  looking  east  from  the  front  of  St.  Peter’s  (p.  54, 

No.  14) 54 

XXXIX.  The  Borgo,  looking  toward  St.  Peter’s  (p.  54,  No.  15)  54 

XL.  Correlation  of  the  Piazza  with  the  Orb  (p.  54,  No.  16)  54 


PLATES  XLI-LI.  PORTRAITS 

XLI.  Sheik-el-Beled,  statue  of  wood,  Fourth  Dynasty 

(p.  57)  ; Boulak  Museum,  Cairo  ....  58 


PLATES 


xi 


XLII. 

XLIII. 

XL  IV. 
XLV. 
XLVI. 
XLVII. 

XL  VIII. 
XL  IX. 
L. 
LI. 


PACING  PAGE 

Sheik-el-Beled,  head  of  statue  shown  in  plate  XLI  . . 60 

Portrait,  so-called  Scipio  type,  now  identified  as  priest  of 

Isis  (p.  57) ; Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston  . . 64 

Pericles  (p.  78) ; British  Museum  .....  66 

So-called  Menander  (p.  82)  ; Brandegee  Collection  . . 72 

Periander  (p.  82)  ; Vatican  Museum  ....  74 

Unknown  Roman,  terra-cotta  (p.  85) ; Museum  of  Fine 

Arts,  Boston  ........  78 

Unknown  old  man,  Roman  (p.  85)  ; Brandegee  Collection  84 

Antoninus  Pius  (p.  88)  ; Brandegee  Collection  . . 86 

Roman  girl  (p.  90)  ; Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston  . . 88 

Sabina  ? (p.  90) ; Brandegee  Collection  ....  90 


PLATES  LII-LIX,  PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL 
ANGELO 

LII.  Caryatid  from  the  Erechtheum,  Athens  (p.  101) ; British 

Museum  .........  96 

LIII.  Madonna  and  Child,  by  Michael  Angelo  (p.  116)  ; Bruges  100 
LIV.  The  Victor,  by  Michael  Angelo  (p.  116)  ; National  Mu- 
seum, Florence  106 

LV.  Bacchus  with  Satyr,  by  Michael  Angelo  (p.  116) ; Na- 
tional Museum,  Florence  . . . . . .112 

LVI.  Eros,  by  Michael  Angelo  (p.  118)  ; South  Kensington 

Museum 118 

LVII.  Ares  and  other  Divinities  (p.  118)  ; Frieze  of  the  Parthe- 
non, Athens  ........  124 

LVIII.  So-called  Athena  Medici  (p.  119)  , Ecole  des  Beaux-Arts, 

Paris 126 

LIX.  Madonna  and  Child,  by  Michael  Angelo,  unfinished  (p. 

131)  ; Church  of  S.  Lorenzo,  Florence  . . . 130 


PLATES  LX,  LXI.  CYRENE  ATHENA 

LX.  Profile  view  of  head  (p.  135) ; Cyrene  ....  136 
LXI.  Front  view  of  head 144 


PLATES  LXII-LXIX.  PAINTINGS  BY 
GIORGIONE 

LXII.  The  Judgment  of  Solomon  (p.  172) ; Kingston  Lacy, 

England 162 

LXIII.  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  or  Epiphany  (p.  175) ; National 

Gallery,  London 168 


Xll 


PLATES 


LXIV. 

LXV. 

LXVI. 

LXVII. 

LXVIII. 

LXIX. 


FACING  PAGE 

Shepherd’s  Offering  (p.  180) ; in  the  Lord  Allandale  Col- 
lection, London  . . . . . . .174 

The  Storm,  gypsy  woman  and  soldier  in  the  foreground 

(p.  181) ; Giovanelli  Palace,  Venice  ....  180 

The  Three  Philosophers  (p.  181)  ; Vienna  . . . 186 

Head  of  Christ  bearing  the  Cross  (p.  185)  ; Gardner  Col- 
lection, Boston . . . . . . . .194 

Portrait  (p.  202) ; Wood  Collection,  Temple  Newsam, 

England  . 202 

Madonna  and  Child  (p.  204)  ; Vienna  ....  204 


BERNINI 


I.  AN  ESTIMATE  OF  BERNINI 


During  the  last  hundred  years  there  has  come  a great 
change  in  the  feeling  of  most  people  towards  the  art  of  the 
different  epochs  of  the  Renaissance.  Whereas  our  grand- 
fathers and  our  great-grandfathers  held  Carracci  and  Guido 
and  others  of  the  same  time  in  high  esteem,  we  are  now 
taught  that  these  later  men  are  of  little  value  or  interest  in 
comparison  with  the  artists  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  even 
the  most  halting  and  stuttering  “ Primitive  ” is  held  of  more 
worth  than  the  more  able  masters  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
This  change  is  natural  enough,  but  betokens  a lack  of  true 
understanding  of  the  purpose  and  powers  of  the  fine  arts. 

The  altered  mental  attitude  in  religious  matters  which  ren- 
ders most  people  incapable  of  feeling  the  appeal  of  the  mystical 
fervour  of  the  seventeenth  century  explains  in  a measure 
why  the  earlier  work  is  preferred ; and  added  to  this  is  the 
effect  of  the  development  of  archaeological  training  which  has 
given  rise  to  an  interest  in  the  mere  search  for  origins — a 
search  that  has  done  infinite  harm  in  blinding  the  eyes  of 
students  to  the  fact  that,  for  the  world  at  large,  it  is  far  more 
important  to  see  whither  life  is  carrying  us  than  from  what 
slow,  groping,  and  inexplicable  protoplasm  and  haphazard 
chance  it  sprung.  The  teachers  of  our  universities  go  on 
in  their  dull  round,  like  Dervishes,  repeating  that  the  Par- 


3 


4 


STUDIES 


thenon  was  the  most  perfect  expression  of  Greek  art,  and  there 
are  those  who  cannot  see  the  beauty  of  the  silver  vases  from 
Boscoreale  because  they  choose  to  call  them  Roman.  With- 
out doubt  there  are  many  sound  reasons  for  the  purely  ar- 
chaeological study  of  classic  art,  and  recently  a small  but  per- 
ceptive band  of  scholars  has  raised  Roman  art  from  the 
ignorant  neglect  into  which  it  had  fallen  and  given  it  the 
proper  position  due  to  any  such  able  expression  of  great  ideas ; 
this  justifies  the  hope  that  the  worth  of  the  later  Italian 
schools  will  become  once  more  manifest,  not  again  to  be  for- 
gotten. 

The  idea  that  the  art  of  any  civilized  people  rises  by  a 
steady  and  constantly  more  perfect  progression  to  one  glori- 
ous peak  of  perfection  and  then  falls  by  rapid  and  recurring 
blunders  to  a waste  of  meaningless  effort  is,  I believe,  due  to 
the  too  frequent  mistake  of  considering  the  monuments  of 
the  arts  as  separate  entities  and  as  self -ordained  rather  than 
as  indices  of  vital  currents  of  thought  and  life.  The  English 
dictionary  is  not  synonymous  with  English  literature.  Nor 
does  the  will-o’-the-wisp  phrase  “art  for  art’s  sake”  mean 
that  each  work  of  art  is  a unique  and  inexplicable  phenomenon. 
Its  true  meaning  is  that  the  artist,  be  he  poet  or  sculptor  or 
musician  — no  matter  what  form  his  art  takes  — finds  the  only 
adequate  expression  of  himself  in  the  forms  and  under  the 
governance  of  the  laws  of  the  art  which  he  follows.  By  so 
far  as  he  follows  these  laws  is  his  work  intelligible  to  other 
men;  by  so  far  as  he  finds  new  combinations  for  the  forms 
and  new  adaptations  of  the  laws  to  meet  the  new  circum- 
stances of  ever  changing  life  is  he  original  and  great.  When 
Shakespeare  or  Keats  wrote  a sonnet  the  verses  were  not  pro- 


mmm 


Plate  II. 


BERNINI 


5 


duced  by  them  merely  for  the  sake  of  using  a certain  com- 
plicated formula  of  fourteen  lines  to  make  certain  statements, 
nor  when  Pheidias  carved  the  Athena  or  Praxiteles  the  Hermes 
was  it  merely  with  the  idea  of  reproducing  the  human  form  in 
stone. 

Had  such  been  the  motive  of  these  poets  and  sculptors 
their  results  would  have  had  small  value;  but  each  one  of 
them  had  something  to  say  that  he  could  best  express  in 
the  form  chosen,  some  feeling  towards  life  he  wished  to 
share  with  others,  and  in  this  outgiving  he  steadily  sought 
to  perfect  the  form  that  held  his  idea.  The  care  he  lavished 
on  the  verse  and  marble  so  that  the  expression  of  this  thought 
might  be  the  completest  possible  and  truest  to  his  idea,  the 
delight  in  making  his  chosen  art  conform  to  the  laws  of 
language  or  of  gravity,  while  at  the  same  time  it  held  the 
thought  as  a nest  holds  an  egg,  that  was  art  for  art’s  sake,  and 
a very  different  matter  from  mere  technical  dexterity. 

All  the  arts  are  alike  means  of  conveying  ideas  from 
brain  to  brain  and  from  the  past  and  forgotten  generations  to 
those  not  yet  thought  of.  No  one  school  ever  told  the  whole 
truth,  but  only  that  part  of  it  maybe  which  local  circumstances 
enable  it  to  see.  Each  of  them,  from  the  earliest  which  faded 
away  before  recorded  time,  to  the  latest  which  looks  eagerly 
forward  to  to-morrow  with  the  hope  of  new  accomplishment 
and  absorption  in  new  truths  discovered,  is  but  as  the  search- 
light casting  its  sharp-defined  ray  through  the  immeasurable 
dark.  The  flames  of  Priam’s  pyre  crimsoning  the  night  which 
hung  over  the  “topless  towers”  were  not  marked  on  the  Ar- 
give  hills,  but  the  message  was  flashed  hither  and  yon  over  the 
star-tracked  sea,  raising  now  hopes  now  fears,  till  at  Mycense 


6 


STUDIES 


no  answering  flame  was  lit,  but  instead  the  young  Phoenix  was 
born. 

And  as  no  one  school  can  answer  all  the  questions,  so 
no  one  single  pundit  can  tell  all  the  truth  even  of  his  own 
school.  In  each  honest,  unshamming  workman  there  is  some- 
thing of  truth,  something  others  long  ago  thrilled  to  or  that 
others  yet  to  come  may  also  feel,  something  that  he  knows 
with  a clarity  and  conviction  not  to  be  equalled  by  any  other. 
In  a sense  he  does  express  his  time,  but  neither  the  artist  nor 
any  man  else  is  merely  the  product  of  his  time,  and  the  truly 
great  ones  go  ahead  of  it,  following  the  gleam  of  the  divine 
spark  which  each  man  is  born  with  to  shelter  in  his  heart  as 
best  he  may.  If  it  keep  alight,  by  God’s  grace,  his  life  becomes 
in  truth  art  for  art’s  sake,  and  he  is  one  of  the  successful  run- 
ners in  the  torch  race  across  the  great  divide  of  life  that  sep- 
arates the  hopeless  past  from  the  hopeful  future. 

Of  such  there  are  many  to  spur  on  the  weary  and  to  guide 
the  strayed  back  to  the  beacon  path.  In  every  man  who  has 
appealed  to  the  masses,  whose  ears  have  rung  and  whose  heart 
has  swelled  with  the  loud  cries  of  “well  done,”  there  is,  be 
sure,  something  of  the  ultimate  divine  truth  — some  no- 
mockery — some  sincerity  which  heated  in  the  fires  of  his 
soul  and  beaten  with  long  pain  and  trouble  on  the  anvil  of  his 
heart,  shall  be,  if  we  can  grasp  it,  a treasure  undiminishing  so 
long  as  we  have  breath  to  live. 

Such  an  one  was  Giovanni  Lorenzo  Bernini,  whose  life  was 
almost  coterminous  with  the  seventeenth  century  (1598- 
1680).  Honoured  during  life  by  three  courts,  and  at  that 
time  court  patronage  was  a very  different  thing  to  what  it  is 
now,  he  has  of  late  been  treated  with  a disregard  which  is 


BERNINI 


7 


unjustified,  and  has  been  blamed  for  faults  which  were  not  his. 
These  false  judgments  can  be  traced  back  to  the  envy  of  some 
of  his  contemporaries,  who  on  the  one  hand  accused  him  of 
ignorance  of  the  mechanics  of  his  art  and  of  stupidity  of  design, 
and  on  the  other,  oftentimes,  did  their  best  to  copy  him.  But 
it  gives  us  pause  when  we  consider  that  notwithstanding  the 
forces  of  jealousy  backed  by  powerful  influence  that  were 
brought  to  bear  on  him  he  remained  in  the  eyes  of  artistic 
Italy  during  his  sixty  and  more  working  years  the  “Michael 
Angelo  of  the  seicento.”  And  this  estimate  of  him,  if  we  lay 
aside  preconceived  notions  and  formulas  handed  down  to  us 
by  our  parents,  and  look  at  his  work  with  our  own  eyes  and 
study  it  in  the  light  of  our  own  knowledge,  will  turn  out  to 
be  the  right  one.  Only  the  rash  and  heedless  dare  say  of 
one  who  acquired  such  admiration  in  his  own  day  that  his 
work  was  poor  and  unworthy.  And  yet  this  is  what  is  said. 
His  style  is  said  to  be  extravagant  and  artificial  and  his  violent 
material  effects  are  said  to  show  that  he  was  unable  to  express 
thought.  Even  the  group  of  Apollo  and  Daphne  is  held  to 
exhibit  his  ignorance  of  the  proper  domain  of  sculpture.  It 
seems  to  me  more  likely  that  the  judgment  of  the  artists  and 
critics  of  the  seventeenth  century  is  apt  to  be  the  correct  one. 

What  would  be  artificial  in  an  artist  to-day  was  not  so  in 
Bernini,  but  was,  if  we  could  see  it  and  free  our  hearts  from  the 
bonds  of  tradition,  the  most  honest  and  simplest  expression  of 
a genius  who  had  a new  message  for  those  who  would  take  the 
trouble  to  understand.  Frequently  his  work  is  criticised  for 
not  conforming  to  the  “severe  laws”  of  good  sculpture  and 
in  this  criticism  lies  the  common  fallacy  of  letting  personal 
taste  usurp  the  place  of  critical  judgment.  There  are,  of 


8 


STUDIES 


course,  laws  of  gravity,  and  of  stress  or  strain  to  which  a sculp- 
tor must  conform  because  they  are  in  the  nature  of  the  ma- 
terial he  uses,  just  as  there  are  optical  laws  which  the  painter 
should  know;  but  there  are  no  laws  to  fix  what  the  artist 
may  or  may  not  represent  or  the  forms  which  he  should  give 
to  his  representations.  Personal  taste  is  very  well  in  its  place, 
but  it  is  not  criticism;  and  severe  laws  are  good  training  for 
our  powers,  but  dependence  on  them  leads  to  stagnation  and 
not  to  discovery.  Because  the  stage-coach  follows  the  old 
gray  road  is  it  artificial  of  the  aeroplane  to  soar  through  the 
trackless  ether  ? Probably  most  critics,  when  they  speak  of 
severe  laws  as  fixed  and  irrevocable,  have  in  mind  those  fol- 
lowed by  the  Greeks  of  the  fifth  century  b.c. — surely  of  no 
later  time,  for  what  of  the  violent  material  effects  of  Per- 
gamon  ? But  suppose  portraits  of  the  present-day  business 
kings  were  carved  according  to  the  one-time  valid  classic 
laws?  Strangely  unlike  the  subject  would  such  portraits  be! 

There  is  nothing  ultimately  right  in  severity  nor  ultimately 
wrong  in  violence.  The  money-changers  were  not  led  from 
the  temple  by  a ribbon  round  their  necks.  The  pioneer  and 
path  breaker  must  be  violent.  This  was  Bernini’s  work  and 
purpose,  and  it  is  no  more  reasonable  to  blame  him  for  the  in- 
sincerity and  stupidity  of  his  followers  than  to  blame  Colum- 
bus for  lynch  law.  As  of  many  another,  Bernini’s  fame  has 
been  dimmed  by  the  follies  and  shams  of  his  would-be  imi- 
tators. Many  tried  to  imitate  and  surpass  him,  but  it  was  not 
to  be  done.  He  had  the  quality  of  genius  which  is  more  than 
the  power  of  taking  infinite  pains.  That  his  pupils  had,  but 
they  merely  exaggerated  the  form  of  the  outer  husk  of  his 
work  till  it  lost  all  semblance  of  truth  and  became  nothing 


Plate  III 


BERNINI 


9 


but  untruth  and  error.  In  him  was  the  divine  spark,  the  light 
of  which  showed  new  worlds  for  sculpture  to  work  in  and  the 
heat  of  which  moulded  his  material  into  the  eternal  forms  of 
beauty. 

The  study  of  Bernini  is  established  on  very  strong  founda- 
tions, and  the  misinterpretation  of  his  aims  is  inexcusable; 
for  we  have  sure  records  of  every  kind  concerning  him.  From 
his  surprising  youth  to  his  busy  old  age  we  can  trace  his  prog- 
ress and  the  development  of  his  powers.  Of  all  his  numerous 
works  scarcely  one  is  lost,  and  such  as  have  disappeared  are  of 
no  importance  whatever  in  comparison  with  what  remains. 
The  full  account  of  his  life  was  written  by  two  contemporaries, 
one  of  them  his  son,  and  this  is  amplified  by  many  letters  and 
other  papers  — accounts  of  payments  for  his  work,  stories  of 
his  doings,  plans  for  work  sometimes  never  undertaken  and 
other  times  finally  accomplished  by  himself  or  his  pupils, 
that  have  been  turned  up  into  the  light  after  long  sleep  in 
Italian  archives.1  It  is  all  before  us,  and  each  chapter  of  his 
life  can  be  recalled  from  the  Elysian  fields.  We  grow  eager 
with  the  same  hopes,  we  feel  despondent  at  the  same  broken 
faith  and  pledges,  we  grow  interested  in  the  same  companion- 
ships, we  rest  after  the  same  magnificent  accomplishments, 
and  to  the  end  we  are  keen  in  search  of  new  worlds  to  open  up. 

Even  the  look  of  him  we  know ; what  the  appearance  was 
as  he  moved  among  the  Popes  and  Kings,  the  Cardinals  and 
Princes  of  Europe.  What  it  was  for  a man  they  saw  we  too 
can  see.  What  it  was  of  a heart  he  felt  dragging  him  on  with 

1 Filippo  Baldinueci  Fiorentino.  Vita  del  cavaliere  Gio.  Lorenzo  Bernini. 
Firenze.  1682. 

Domenico  Bernino.  Vita  del  cavaliere  Gio.  Lorenzo  Bemino.  Roma.  1713. 

Stanislao  Fraschetti.  11  Bernini.  Milan.  1900. 


10 


STUDIES 


engine  throbs  we  can  guess  when  our  amazed  eyes  rest  on  the 
Saint  Theresa,  the  bust  of  Louis  XIV,  or  the  throne  in  St. 
Peter’s.  A strongly  built,  dark  man,  his  thick  hair  whitening 
in  old  age,  but  the  quick  eye  never  losing  its  brilliancy  and 
piercing  glance.  Of  simple  fashion  in  dress,  as  the  pictures 
and  drawings  by  himself  and  others  show  him,  for  all  his  love 
of  rich  stuffs  and  floating  draperies.  A ready  and  pleasant 
wit  made  him  the  best  of  company,  though  at  times  withdrawn 
into  himself  by  some  mystical  absorption.  For  just  as  the 
great  religious  leaders,  so  the  great  artists  are  at  times  lifted 
by  some  ecstasy  away  from  actual  surrounding  fact  and  lost 
in  worlds  only  visible  to  their  inner  eye,  and  though  visible 
never  to  be  told  of.  At  other  times  his  spirits  broke  forth 
in  irrepressible  gaiety  which  though  it  might  form  itself  as 
satire  was  never  malevolent.  Generous  to  a fault,  and  always 
ready  to  lift  up  a friend,  he  was  implacable  towards  his  ene- 
mies, and  rightly  showed  them  no  mercy.  He  had  the  strength 
to  be  a good  hater,  — not  feebly  excusing  hypocrisy  and  mean- 
ness because  the  hypocrite  was  weak  or  knew  no  better,  but 
hating,  not  the  poor  miserable  individual,  but  his  qualities, 
and,  to  the  best  of  his  own  power,  destroying  them.  Proud 
and  self-confident,  but  willing  to  answer  questions  or  to  explain 
what  might  seem  faults.  A lonely  man ; one  with  many  ac- 
quaintances but  few  friends.  Too  sincere  not  to  be  shocked 
by  the  heartless  brutishness  of  the  woman  he  loved,  too  honest 
a workman  not  to  be  hurt  by  the  attacks  of  envy,  but  never 
losing  heart,  always  following  his  ideal  and  seeking  to  eternize 
the  beautiful  visions  of  his  bright  soul. 

There  are  many  portraits  of  him,  some  done  with  pencil 
or  pen  or  graver,  others  more  elaborate  oil  paintings.  They 


BERNINI 


11 


are  the  work  of  his  friends,  or  done  by  himself,  and  show  him 
at  various  periods  of  life  from  young  manhood  to  old  age. 
Naturally  they  vary  in  many  ways,  but  the  variance  is  for 
the  most  part  in  the  details  of  the  outer  shell  of  the  man.  The 
thick  dark  locks  of  the  youth  give  place  to  the  thin  gray  hairs 
of  the  old  man;  the  full  cheeks  grow  sunken  and  wrinkles 
frame  the  piercing  eyes ; but  in  all  the  portraits  certain  char- 
acteristics remain  constant.  A pencil  drawing  in  the  Galleria 
Nazionale  in  Rome  is  the  best  of  the  youthful  portraits.1  It  is 
by  himself,  done  when  he  was  some  twenty  years  old.  It 
shows  a finely  shaped  head  with  thick,  waving  hair.  The  face 
is  strongly  modelled,  and  all  the  features  noticeable ; the  nose 
large  and  slightly  bent,  the  chin  square  and  strong.  Lips  full 
and  sensitive,  but  vigorous.  Most  noticeable  of  all  are  the 
eyes,  large  and  dark,  set  rather  deeply  under  heavy  brows, 
looking  straightly  and  sadly  but  imperturbably  on  the  world. 
A face  of  power  yet  of  sweetness.  A man  to  ask  after  and  to 
watch  what  he  will  do  in  this  world.  Rather  older  we  see 
him  in  two  drawings  in  the  private  collection  of  Prince  Chigi 
in  Rome.2  Life  was  testing  him  severely  we  know,  but  the 
eyes  are  still  steady,  are  still  bright  with  the  inner  light  that 
was  leading  him  on,  and  the  mouth  is  still  sweet  and  undrawn. 

Of  about  the  same  time,  or  a little  later  maybe,  is  the  oil 
portrait  supposed  to  be  by  himself  (though  for  this  there  is 
little  proof),  in  the  Uffizi.3  No  change  yet  in  the  character 
except  in  a strengthening  and  making  permanent  the  good 
qualities  of  his  youth.  The  man  has  found  himself.  Many 
years  go  by  before  we  again  see  him  face  to  face. 

1 Fraschetti,  op.  cit.,  p.  47.  2 Fraschetti,  op.  cit.,  pp.  425,  426. 

3 Fraschetti,  op.  cit.,  p.  428. 


12 


STUDIES 


In  the  Gallery  of  St.  Luke  1 and  in  the  possession  of  Count 
Andreozzi  in  Rome 2 are  portraits  of  him  in  his  last  years,  and 
a very  fine  pencil  drawing  by  himself  in  the  Brandegee  Collec- 
tion (Plate  I).  All  his  works  were  completed,  his  visits  to  the 
courts  of  Europe  were  over,  he  is  the  “Michael  Angelo  of  the 
seicento,”  and  yet  he  is  just  as  simple  in  his  dress  and  pose 
as  ever.  Obviously  a great  man  whose  ideals  were  so  much 
greater  to  him  than  what  he  had  accomplished  that  no  possible 
flattery  could  disturb  the  balance  of  his  mental  poise.  One 
change  there  is  in  the  face  more  to  be  remarked  than  the 
higher  forehead  and  the  fuller  chin.  The  eyes  are  still  bright 
and  level,  the  mouth  still  as  soft  and  strong,  but  the  sadness 
of  expression  has  gone.  Had  he  realized,  I wonder,  that  soon 
all  the  sorrows  of  life  would  be  hidden  and  lost  under  the 
gray  church  floor  ? Though  the  glad  light  of  the  sun  no 
longer  shone  upon  his  life  his  face  is  bright  with  a mystical 
light  as  of  the  ranging  stars  which  for  countless  thousands 
of  years  have  guided  the  feet  of  man.3 

It  may  be  thought  that  I have  given  a fanciful  interpreta- 

1 This  portrait  (Fraschetti,  op.  cit.,  p.  434)  is  probably  a copy  of  one  owned  by 
Baron  Geymtiller  in  London. 

2 Fraschetti,  op.  cit.,  p.  429. 

3 In  the  Museum  at  Weimar  is  a portrait  on  which  is  written  that  it  was  done  by 
Bernini  himself,  and  as  an  autoritratto  it  has  been  published  by  Fraschetti  (p.  433). 
It  is  a wretched  performance,  done  not  by  Bernini,  but  by  someone  who  had  neither 
an  observant  eye  nor  a well-trained  hand. 

There  is  still  another  portrait  which  I think  is  very  probably  of  him.  It  hangs  in 
the  Capitoline  Gallery  in  Rome  (Plate  II),  where  it  is  called  “Portrait  of  Velasquez, 
by  himself,”  an  attribution  which  no  student  of  Velasquez  would  maintain  to-day. 
The  shape  of  the  head  and  face  and  the  expression  are  extremely  like  Bernini. 
Even  the  different  shape  and  angle  of  the  two  eyebrows  is  the  same  as  in  his  por- 
traits. The  quality  of  the  hair  is  the  same,  and  the  way  it  grows  over  the  temples. 
In  the  earlier  portraits  of  him  the  hair  is  parted  on  the  right  side  as  in  the  Capitoline 
picture.  The  nose  is  very  nearly  the  same  as  in  the  pencil  portraits  by  himself 
in  the  National  Gallery  in  Rome  and  in  the  Chigi  collection. 


Plate  IV, 


BERNINI 


13 


tion  to  the  change  that  came  in  his  face  from  youth  to  old  age, 
but  it  can  be  shown  that  some  such  thoughts  as  I have  sug- 
gested moved  him.  About  1650,  at  a time  when  his  enemies 
had  attacked  his  work  in  St.  Peter’s  and  caused  him  great  finan- 
cial damage  and  still  greater  hurt  to  his  natural  and  proper 
pride,  the  idea  came  to  him  to  carve  an  allegory  that  should 
show  the  ages  what  his  feeling  towards  his  critics,  towards 
art  and  towards  life  truly  was.  Allegories  in  painting  or 
sculpture  are  usually,  owing  to  the  fixed  limitations  of  these 
arts,  unintelligible,  but  no  artist  ever  lived  who  could  have 
done  as  well  as  Bernini  in  making  clear  his  idea  with  the  ma- 
terial he  used.  Even  if  we  did  not  have  his  own  words  about 
this  group  his  thought  would  be  seen,  for  his  amazing  command 
of  technique  and  his  knowledge  of  statics  made  it  possible  for 
him  to  combine  figures  with  a freedom  rarely  equalled,  and 
thereby  to  express  himself  with  an  ease  and  fulness  beyond 
the  powers  of  most  sculptors  of  any  time.  Only  one  of  the 
two  figures  which  were  to  form  the  group  was  ever  finished, 
but  there  is  a sepia  sketch  showing  the  whole  composition. 

In  it  we  see  the  winged  figure  of  Time  hovering  above  a 
beautiful  woman  from  whose  nude  body  he  lifts  a mantle.  She 
is  Truth;  in  her  hand  she  holds  an  image  of  the  Sun  darting 
bright  rays  in  all  directions.  This  group  meant  much  to  him  ; 
was  perhaps  the  most  personal  and  truly  expressive  work  he 
ever  made,  and  till  his  death  he  kept  it  by  him.  In  his  will 
he  says  that  not  without  reason  has  he  kept  this  statue  of 
Truth  unveiled  by  Time  which  he  wishes  to  remain  for  ever 
in  the  possession  of  his  descendants  who,  as  they  look  on  it, 
may  remember  that  the  most  lovely  of  the  virtues  is  Truth 
and  that  if  one  works  under  her  guidance  Time  in  the  end 


14 


STUDIES 


reveals  her.  Are  the  “severe  laws”  of  the  ancients  any  more 
severe  than  this  rule  Bernini  held  before  himself  and  wished 
his  descendants  never  to  forget,  and  is  it  sensible  because  at 
first  sight  his  work  seems  strange  and  unaccountable  to 
damn  it  with  such  words  as  “ fantastic  ” or  “ baroque  ” ? 

The  group  was  never  finished,  but  in  a dirty  courtyard  off 
the  Corso  in  Rome,  neglected  as  only  the  Italians  know  how 
to  neglect  such  things  till  some  outsider  stirs  their  jaded  ap- 
preciation to  new  interest,  is  the  Discovered  Truth.  Time  on 
hasty  wings  flies  by,  but  as  Bernini  knew,  Truth  stays  always, 
heedless  of  neglect,  the  fixed  pole  for  all  those  who  set  their 
aim  beyond  the  bounds  within  which  their  earthly  eyes  would 
prison  them.  And  knowing  this,  it  came  to  pass  that  his 
old  face  was  lit  with  a peaceful  smile  as  he  came  to  the  evening 
of  life. 

Bernini’s  work  is  of  unusual  variety,  but  the  best  of  it  falls 
into  four  classes.  There  are  the  wonderful  groups  illustrating 
old  world  myths  that  he  produced  in  the  full  joy  of  life  in  his 
youth ; there  are  the  amazing  religious  monuments  in  which 
he  embodied  with  unrivalled  skill  the  mystical  intensity  of 
the  religion  whose  chief  priests  he  served ; there  are  the  su- 
perbly joyous  settings  for  fountains  which  though  the  waters 
might  dry  up  and  cease  to  flow  will  still,  so  long  as  the  stone 
lasts,  echo  their  murmuring  music;  and  there  are  the  long  series 
of  magnificent  busts  on  which  he  was  employed  from  his  very 
earliest  days  to  his  latest.  He  was  besides  author,  painter, 
illustrator,  and  architect.  I have  no  intention  of  cataloguing 
the  long  series  of  work  his  never  idle  hand  produced,  but  wish 
merely  to  point  out  some  of  the  forgotten  beauties  that  he 
brought  into  being.  In  a measure,  it  is  possible  to  trace  the 


BERNINI 


15 


source  of  his  inspiration  and  in  lesser  degree  to  foresee  its 
outcome. 

His  father,  Pietro,  a Florentine,  was  a sculptor  of  no  mean 
power  before  him.  His  mother  was  of  Naples,  and  in  that 
southern,  passionate  city  Gian  Lorenzo  was  born  in  1598  and 
there  he  passed  his  first  years.  Some  day  another  Mendel 
may  be  able  to  establish  what  were  the  forces  of  Florentine 
and  Neapolitan  blood  that  lay  dormant  in  his  young  brain, 
but  for  us  is  no  such  certainty,  and  we  can  only  guess  at  the 
effect  of  the  father’s  artistic  occupations  and  the  mother’s 
quick  blood.  In  1604,  when  the  boy  was  but  six  years  old, 
his  father  moved  to  Rome,  the  city  his  son  was  destined  to 
impress  with  his  genius  as  no  city  but  Athens  has  ever  been 
impressed  by  a single  artist.  Working  at  first  for  his  father, 
he  was  only  fourteen  years  old  when  he  drew  to  himself  the 
attention  of  all  the  connoscenti  by  two  busts  which,  as  Anni- 
bale Carracci  said,  any  artist  after  years  of  work  might  have 
been  proud  to  make.  The  admiration  Bernini  won  for  these 
works,  to  which  I shall  return,  led,  as  was  the  good  habit 
of  those  days,  to  the  patronage  of  the  Borghese  pope,  Paul  V. 

In  the  Borghese  villa,  the  ruined  grandeur  of  which  is  still 
the  chief  pride  of  Rome,  the  young  Bernini  was  surrounded 
by  beautiful  antique  marbles,  some  of  which  he  was  called 
upon  to  restore.  This  familiarity  with  ancient  sculpture, 
and  this  subjection  in  the  task  of  restoration  of  his  own  spirit 
to  that  of  classic  masters,  had  a very  marked  effect  on  him  — 
an  effect  which  in  its  deepest  sense  lasted  throughout  his  long 
life,  though  its  more  obvious  and  visible  manifestation  soon 
waned  and  faded  away.  That  is  to  say,  while  his  work  at  all 
times  showed  a perfect  comprehension  of  some  of  the  funda- 


16 


STUDIES 


mental  laws  of  the  material  out  of  which  sculpture  is  formed, 
laws  that  were  first  clearly  expounded  by  the  Greeks,  it  is 
only  in  a few  of  his  earliest,  and  for  a youth  miraculous, 
works  that  he  shows  a tendency  to  imitate  classic  form. 

Four  wonderful  works  were  produced  for  the  Borghese 
family.  The  vEneas  and  Anchises  (Plate  III),  the  David 
(Plate  IV),  the  Rape  of  Proserpina  (Plate  V),  and  the  exquisite 
group  of  Apollo  and  Daphne  (Plate  VI).  All  these  were 
finished  when  he  was  only  twenty-seven.  Realizing  this, 
the  comparison  of  him  with  Michael  Angelo  no  longer  seems 
exaggerated,  but  one  sees  further  that  no  such  comparison  can 
perform  the  ordinary  service  of  all  such  juxtapositions,  which 
is  to  afford  a scale  of  better  or  worse,  for  the  two  masters 
are  supreme,  each  in  his  oym  individual  and  original  way, 
and  incomparable. 

Opinion  may  easily  differ  in  regard  to  the  first  three  of  the 
works  just  mentioned.  To  me  the  iEneas  is  the  least  pleasing 
and  the  David  the  least  successful  artistically.  The  faults 
of  both  may  be  in  part  due  to  the  fact  that  in  each  case  Ber- 
nini’s imagination  was  to  a certain  degree  hampered  by  work 
of  other  men  which  he  seems  to  have  set  himself  to  surpass, 
and  even  though  it  may  be  granted  that  he  did  surpass  his 
models,  he  would  have  done  better,  as  in  the  Proserpina  and 
Daphne,  to  let  his  own  genius  lead  him  whither  it  would  and 
ignore  other  suggestion.  The  models  I refer  to  are,  in  the 
case  of  the  iEneas,  the  Christ  by  Michael  Angelo  in  Santa 
Maria  sopra  Minerva  and  for  the  David  the  Borghese  Warrior 
now  in  the  Louvre,  both  works  of  small  merit.1  The  reason 

1 The  Borghese  Warrior  was  found  at  Anzio  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  See  Friederichs-Wolters,  Gipsabgiisse,  1885,  p.  541  f;  Vulpius,  Vetus 
Latium,  1726,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  28. 


Plate  V, 


BERNINI 


17 


the  iEneas  seems  to  me  unpleasing  is  because  of  the  weakness 
and  unheroic  look  of  the  faces  and  figures,  but  others  may  not 
feel  this,  and  the  skill  of  the  group  is  undoubted.  The  lack 
of  success  in  the  David  is  due  to  a slight  failure  in  understand- 
ing the  Greek  motive  that  Bernini  was  copying.  Whether 
or  not  he  had  in  mind  the  Borghese  Warrior  as  he  carved  this 
figure  is  a matter  of  slight  importance.  He  was  in  any  case 
representing  a single  figure  in  a position  of  strongly  marked 
action,  a problem  that  Myron  magnificently  solved  in  the 
Discobolus.  The  Borghese  Warrior  is  by  no  means  so  suc- 
cessful. The  David  would  rival  the  Discobolus  had  Bernini 
not  made  one  mistake.  The  figure  is  turned  to  the  wrong 
side.  As  he  stands,  the  right  arm  drawn  back,  the  left  hand 
holding  the  stone  in  the  sling  in  front  of  the  body,  the  sling 
must  fall  loose  and  dead,  the  body  must  again  be  flung  for- 
ward and  the  right  arm  swung  upwards  before  the  youth  can 
get  the  momentum  to  hurl  the  stone  at  his  enemy.  Had 
Bernini  turned  the  figure  the  other  way  with  the  left  hand 
behind  and  the  right  in  front  of  the  body,  this  sense  of  ineffec- 
tiveness in  the  pose  would  not  have  existed,  and  the  whole 
body  would  have  been  tensely  set  at  the  moment  of  rest  be- 
tween the  action  of  drawing  back  for  the  aim  and  the  instan- 
taneously following  motion  of  the  cast.1 

Though  such  slight  criticism  may  be  passed  on  these 
two  works,  the  other  two,  the  Proserpina  and  Daphne  are  not 
open  to  any  similar  attack.  They  are  magnificent,  and  compel 

1 It  is  not  improbable  that  the  statue  of  St.  Lawrence,  in  the  Strozzi  palace  in 
Florence,  which  Bernini  made  at  this  time,  was  influenced  by  the  Dying  Gaul. 
The  two  statues  resemble  each  other  closely  in  many  ways.  There  is  a tradition 
that  Michael  Angelo  restored  certain  small  portions  of  the  Gaul,  but  the  character 
of  the  work  of  the  restorations  suggests  Bernini  rather  than  Michael  Angelo. 


18 


STUDIES 


admiration  even  from  those  whose  training  would  tend  to 
limit  their  preferences  to  work  of  another  type.  Never  was 
the  spirit  of  the  two  stories  more  fully  understood  or  more 
adequately  rendered.  Never  was  marble  managed  in  more 
masterful  fashion  and  given  such  flux  and  flow  of  life.  One’s 
breath  catches  as  one  looks,  for  it  seems  no  longer  a work  of 
art  before  one’s  eyes,  but  life  itself.  There  is  the  dark,  pas- 
sionate rape  of  Proserpine,  her  splendid  soft  body  shrinking 
and  twisting  in  the  grasp  of  the  undeniable,  compelling  God 
of  the  underworld.  There  is  the  sweet,  sad  loss  of  Daphne, 
her  exquisite  springtime  figure  fading  and  changing  into  the 
rustling  silver  leaves  in  fright  at  the  too  hasty  claim  of  her 
lover.  Her  face  is  still  lovely,  though  the  wide  eyes  and  open 
mouth  show  her  fear,  but  is  there  nothing  in  her  fear  of  loss 
of  her  dear  pursuer  ? And  what  of  him  ? Not  to  be  thought 
of  as  Olympian  brother  to  the  cruel,  forceful  Pluto.  His 
face  and  action  betoken  the  tenderness  that  would  save  the 
woman  he  loves  from  the  heartless  folly  she  would  thought- 
lessly commit.  In  the  one  group  the  storm  and  rush  of  pas- 
sion ; in  the  other  the  tender  restraint  of  love.  Both  purely 
Greek  and  classic,  and  both  carved  with  such  consummate 
mastery  that  we  forget  the  marble  and  see  only  the  dark  Tar- 
tarean glow  and  hear  only  the  whispering  of  the  sad  leaves. 

The  perfection  of  technique  displayed  in  the  works  of 
Bernini’s  youthful  years  is  obvious  to  anyone  with  the  slight- 
est knowledge  of  sculpture.  His  knowledge  of  anatomy  must 
have  been  almost  instinctive,  while  he  used  the  chisel  with  an 
ease  that  few  painters  could  rival  with  a brush.  His  under- 
standing, too,  of  balance  and  composition  and  of  the  forms  the 
marble  could  be  given  was  a revelation,  and  infinitely  enlarged 


Plate  VI 


BERNINI 


19 


the  field  of  sculpture.  As  a mere  group,  the  Daphne  has  never 
been  surpassed,  and  Bernini  himself  recognised  that,  at  least 
from  the  point  of  view  of  technique,  none  of  his  later  works 
were  any  more  marvellous.  The  spirit  and  character,  however, 
of  the  later  work  are  very  different.  It  is  worth  noting  that 
his  method  of  production  differs  greatly  from  that  of  his 
predecessors.  Hundreds  of  sepia  drawings  by  him  still  exist 
which  show  the  fertility  of  his  invention  and  the  labour  he 
spent  in  getting  the  best  design  for  his  works.  There  are  also 
many  terra  cotta  models  for  his  statues,  and  in  all  of  these  we 
see  a directness  in  the  way  he  approached  his  subject  that  dif- 
ferentiates him  from  the  forerunners  in  the  art.  Among  the 
Greeks,  among  the  painters  at  least,  it  was  not  uncommon  to 
think  of  the  body  and  the  drapery  as  separate  and  to  draw 
or  model  the  first  entirely  nude  and  then  afterwards  to  put 
drapery  over  it.  This  habit  was  common  enough  during  the 
Renaissance,  and  the  studies  of  such  men  as  Differ  and  Leo- 
nardo show  that  it  was  not  confined  to  the  lesser  men  whose 
lack  of  skill  and  knowledge  was  helped  by  such  double  process. 

But  among  all  the  hundreds  of  sketches  on  paper  and  models 
in  terra-cotta  that  are  left  us  of  Bernini’s  work  there  is  scarcely 
a trace  of  this  method  of  procedure.  He  visualized  each  work 
in  endless  different  ways,  making  rapid  but  most  skilful  studies 
of  them  all,  but  he  saw  the  figure  each  time  completed.  The 
figures  and  drapery  and  setting  were  one  indivisible  whole  to 
him,  and  his  uncommon  knowledge  of  anatomy,  and  the  rare 
clearness  of  his  mental  vision,  made  it  possible  for  him  when 
the  final  form  of  the  work  was  fixed  upon  to  work  at  it  from  the 
outside  inwards,  and  not,  as  in  something  built  of  blocks,  from 
the  inside  outwards.  And  while  his  sketches  differ  in  this 


20 


STUDIES 


regard  from  those  of  most  other  artists,  the  variety  of  them, 
especially  the  very  numerous  ones  for  the  same  monument, 
show  the  pitch  of  excellence  to  which  art  had  arrived,  for 
these  sketches  are  no  longer  the  record  of  the  artist’s  search 
to  learn  how,  but  of  his  eager  search  how  best.  Not  that  Ber- 
nini was  unique  in  this.  The  fertility  of  invention  of  such 
men  as  Domenico  Tiepolo  is  as  that  of  a tree  putting  forth 
leaves,  but  no  other  artist  illustrates  these  qualities  and 
methods  more  completely  and  masterfully  than  our  Gian 
Lorenzo. 

I have  mentioned  above  the  originality  displayed  by  men 
such  as  Michael  Angelo  and  Bernini.  Many  another  name 
could  be  added  to  these  two,  but  it  is  not  of  men  I wish  to 
speak,  but  of  this  quality  of  originality,  this  crucible  from 
which  the  old  is  drawn  forth  new,  this  Spring  season  of  the 
mind  which  clothes  the  old,  dry  stumps  with  fresh  life.  The 
word  is  so  often  misused  about  the  artists  of  to-day  that  its 
real  significance  is  lost  and  true  originality  is  too  often  imi- 
tated by  a cheaper,  rottener  stuff.  Every  one  of  us  is  original 
in  some  degree.  No  one,  unless  he  be  mentally  dead,  sees  or 
feels  or  believes  as  his  father  or  grandfathers  did  before  him. 
It  may  be  the  old  belief  was  more  correct  and  the  old  eyes  were 
sharper  than  the  new.  Only  the  purblind  and  myopic  think 
that  all  the  early  stages  were  wrong  and  that  the  solitary 
Present  is  alone  right.  Were  this  so,  how  hopelessly  wrong 
this  same  Present  would  soon  be!  What  a hideous  precipice 
of  error  would  this  life’s  painful  course  appear!  As  in  life, 
so  it  is  in  Art,  and  all  artists  are  original  who  are  genuine  and 
honest,  who  are  spurred  on  only  by  their  ideals  and  their  love 
for  their  work  — who  give  up  worshipping  the  xoana  and 


BERNINI 


21 


idols  of  a past  day.  It  may  be  suggested  that  there  is  little 
difference,  or  perhaps  even  none,  between  one’s  own  ideal 
and  any  other  suggested  to  us  by  some  wrought  image,  whether 
in  stone  or  verse  is  no  matter.  But  there  is.  There  is  the 
difference  of  life.  The  light  of  one  is  of  the  dying  embers,  but 
the  light  of  the  other  is  of  the  rising  Sun  which  shows  the  path 
we  follow  till  our  feet  grow  slower  and  slower,  till  at  the  last 
they  halt  and  stop  fixed.  While  the  idol  remains  but  the 
symbol  of  the  ideal  it  is  right.  When  it  becomes  the  God  it  is 
wrong,  or  when  doubt  has  cut  its  roots  and  sapped  its  strength 
and  we  pay  it  service  merely  because  to  do  so  has  become  an 
easy  habit.  So  it  is  we  come  to  see  that  the  originality  of 
these  artists  was  not  mere  novelty,  but  was  truthfulness.  It 
represents  their  beliefs,  and  what  you  believe  you  believe  for 
yourself  alone.  It  shows  us  what  their  real,  sure-founded 
and  enduring  hopes  and  aims  were.  Mere  novelty  cannot  be 
believed  in  because  it  is  accidental.  It  has  neither  root  nor 
promise  of  flower.  It  is  the  mirage  of  the  salt  desert,  and  it  is 
this  mere  queerness,  mere  strain,  mere  novelty  which  is  too 
often  mistaken  for  originality.  It  is  the  paradox  masquerad- 
ing as  the  True  Word.  Just  as  this  world  whirls  like  a “fret- 
ful midge”  through  space,  ever  in  the  same  track,  a recur- 
ring course,  but  gradually  unperceived  moves  elsewhither, 
so  do  the  great  artists  revolve,  and  impelled  not  by  their  own 
wilfulness  but  by  the  power  of  the  divine  spark  within  them, 
slowly  move  forward.  And  among  that  splendid  company  is 
Bernini. 

The  terra  cotta  studies  in  the  Brandegee  Collection  1 illus- 
trate clearly  Bernini’s  originality  and  the  power  to  which 
1 In  Brookline,  Mass. ; see  p.  44  and  Plates  XI-XXVII. 


STUDIES 


I have  referred  above,  of  seeing  his  visions  in  their  complete- 
ness without  having  to  painfully  build  them  up.  I do  not 
mean  to  imply  that  each  separate  detail  of  his  works  was  the 
same  in  his  first  vision  of  them  as  in  their  finished  form.  He 
worked  at  them  assiduously,  and  perfected  them  with  the 
greatest  patience  and  care,  but  when  they  came  into  his  mind 
they  rose  before  him  like  ghosts  from  the  tomb  — vague  but 
entire. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  most  of  these  models  are  of  angels,  and 
as  such  represent  the  religious  work  by  which  Bernini  is  best 
known,  and  on  which  he  was  most  often  employed  after  his 
youth  was  past.  By  the  time  he  was  twenty-five  years  old 
he  had  been  employed  by  three  Popes,  and  before  his  death 
five  others  sought  his  aid  and  depended  largely  on  his  genius 
in  their  endeavours  to  beautify  Rome  and  to  render  their 
own  fame  imperishable.  These  undertakings  were  of  very 
various  character,  but  the  greater  number  of  them,  such  as 
statues  of  Saints,  decoration  of  chapels,  altars  and  taber- 
nacles, grave  monuments  of  Popes  and  prelates,  were  done 
with  religious  purpose  and  may  be  called  his  ecclesiastical 
work.  It  is  superb  in  its  mastery,  magnificent  in  effect,  and 
while  utterly  different  from  anything  that  had  been  done  be- 
fore, gives  the  impression  of  complete  and  perfect  sincerity. 
Though  unlike  earlier  work  and  though  the  religion  that  in- 
spired and  made  it  possible  has  changed  so  that  never  again 
will  an  artist  be  able  to  give  similar  expression  to  his  ideals, 
still  there  is  no  ground  for  considering  it  merely  curious  and 
the  expression  of  insincerity  or  passing  error.  Anything  that 
affected  so  many  thousands  of  men,  which  they  found  beauti- 
ful and  satisfying  to  their  souls,  must  be  in  a measure  true. 


Plate  VII 


BERNINI 


23 


must  have  in  it  some  portion  of  ultimate  wisdom.  Silence  or 
contempt  towards  it,  any  feeling  but  of  sympathy  with  it, 
shows  not  a better  knowledge  but  a duller  understanding. 

During  the  sixteenth  century  a great  change  had  come  about 
in  the  way  men  looked  at  life.  Discoveries  were  made  of  all 
sorts ; on  land  for  men’s  feet  to  follow  or  in  mathematics  and 
philosophy  for  their  souls  to  reach  up  to.  Old  dogmas  became 
untenable  and  the  roofs  with  which  men  had  sheltered  their 
heads  became  scaffolding  on  which  they  planted  their  feet. 
It  was  a time  of  revolution  — the  revolution  of  the  wheel  of 
life  which  advances  as  it  turns.  I have  called  attention  to 
the  fact  that  the  artists  in  their  search  for  the  fullest  possible 
expression  of  their  thought  often  threw  off  dozens  of  designs 
for  a single  work  before  finding  the  one  most  adequate.  Tech- 
nique no  longer  hampered  them  in  the  slightest  way,  and  they 
readily  changed  their  mode  in  accordance  with  new  views,  no 
longer  blindly  following  the  old  guides.  The  work  of  Titian 
is  one  of  the  most  obvious  illustrations  of  this.  In  his  youth 
he  followed,  like  the  Indian,  the  steps  of  his  leaders,  but  as  he 
aged,  he  broke  from  them  more  and  more,  till  at  the  end 
he  arrived  in  a world  his  teachers  could  never  have  imag- 
ined. Bernini  had  a similar  experience. 

One  of  the  commonest  complaints  brought  against  Bernini 
is  that  he  introduced  the  habit  of  decorating  the  archivolts 
or  domed  roofs  of  the  churches  with  figures  of  angels  fluttering 
about  like  great  white  birds,  and  in  this  complaint  no  distinc- 
tion is  made  between  the  idea  that  underlay  this  scheme  of 
decoration  and  the  inappropriate  and  exaggerated  use  of  it 
made  often  by  his  imitators.  From  the  earliest  times  of  the 
Renaissance,  this  scheme  had  been  used.  Bernini  did  not 


24 


STUDIES 


invent  it.  The  Gothic  portals  and  towers  of  France  are 
crowded  with  figures  of  saints  and  kings,  of  angels  and  de- 
mons. In  orderly  ranks  they  guard  the  gates  or  singly  spring 
into  mid  air  from  the  balconies.  In  Italy  the  shepherds  of 
the  people  stood  in  pulpits  which  rested  on  the  strong  shoul- 
ders of  Christ’s  soldiers  or  on  the  steady  wings  of  the  heavenly 
host,  while  high  o’erhead  (as  in  the  Portinari  Chapel  in  S. 
Eustorgio,  Milan),  a ring  of  winged  figures,  hand  holding  hand, 
danced  and  sang,  and  down  the  long  aisles  and  in  the  dark 
chapels  every  sleeper  in  his  stony  bed  was  guarded  by  the 
faithful  spirits. 

Why  then  find  fault  with  Bernini  and  think  he  erred  in 
doing  what  all  the  world  found  good  ? If  Bernini  is  mistaken 
in  putting  marble  figures  above  our  heads,  why  excuse  Cor- 
reggio for  the  circling  swarms  with  which  he  covered  the 
church  domes,  or  Michael  Angelo  for  the  cataract  of  figures 
with  which  he  covered  the  Sistine  Chapel  ? All  such  work 
must  be  considered  for  its  suggestion,  not  from  the  point  of 
view  of  its  actual  substance.  Why,  if  the  conventional  and 
halting  work  of  the  nameless  early  artists  is  good,  should  the 
masterly  work  of  Bernini  be  considered  bad  ? Only  because 
the  modern  world  thinks  it  foolish  to  believe  in  anthropo- 
morphic angels  and  having  no  belief,  has  lost  the  power  of 
understanding  symbols.  And  also  the  antagonism  Bernini’s 
work  arouses  is  due  to  the  fad  for  the  primitive  and  incomplete. 
The  very  lack  of  power  that  every  early  artist  tried  to  rid 
himself  of  is  now  thought  to  be  his  chief  value  and  grace,  and 
as  in  the  daily  press  a missing  word  puzzle  attracts  more  at- 
tention than  a sonnet  so  the  halting  early  work  finds  more 
admirers  than  the  later  perfect  art. 


Plate  VIII 


' 


BERNINI 


25 


Perfect  as  they  are,  there  is  something  more  than  anthro- 
pomorphism in  Bernini’s  angels.  Earlier  artists,  even  the 
best  of  the  Florentines,  when  representing  these  heavenly 
messengers,  almost  always  make  them  so  solid  and  human  that 
the  wings  are  utterly  inadequate,  or  else  they  suggest  the  body 
by  a thin  and  shapeless  swirl  of  drapery  topped  by  a perfectly 
substantial  head.  In  either  case  the  result  is  unsatisfactory, 
for  though  the  figures  conform  to  the  usual  idea  of  angels  as 
effeminate  human  forms  with  wings,  the  chief  impression  they 
make  is  of  inconsistent  and  impossible  anatomical  combina- 
tions. 

They  fail  just  as  the  archaic  Greek  centaurs  with  human 
feet  fail.  When  one  looks  at  Bernini’s  angels,  the  two  done 
in  his  youth  for  the  altar  of  Sant’  Agostino,  or  the  two  for 
instance  which  he  carved  in  later  years  for  the  Ponte  Sant’ 
Angelo,  but  which  were  considered  too  beautiful  to  be  exposed 
in  the.  open  air  and  are  now  sheltered  in  Sant’  Andrea  delle 
Fratte  (Plates  VII,  VIII),  or  at  the  one  which  kneels  on  the 
left  hand  of  the  Ciborio  in  the  Cappella  del  Sacramento  in  Saint 
Peter’s,  one  has  no  sense  of  unreality.  The  bodies  are  human 
in  form,  but  spiritual  in  their  lightness  and  grace.  The  wings 
are  strong  and  large,  and  yet  so  feathery  as  to  seem  almost 
transparent.  The  drapery  falls  and  clings  to  and  fits  the 
body  as  a cloud  might,  and  the  face  and  action  express  a per- 
fect and  soul-filling  adoration  that  finds  expression  in  tireless 
worship  and  unending  song  of  praise.  These  are  the  true 
“sexless  souls,  ideal  quires.” 

This  same  strong  religious  feeling  is  shown  with  equal 
certainty  in  other  figures  by  Bernini  which  are  better  known 
than  his  angels.  These  are  the  figures  of  saints  which  he 


26 


STUDIES 


made  in  his  middle  and  later  years.  The  earliest  of  them, 
that  of  Santa  Bibiana,  done  in  1626,  when  he  was  still  a young 
man,  shows  in  the  arrangement  and  pose  of  the  figure  the 
influence  of  the  antique.  The  technique  exhibits  the  same 
magnificent  ease  and  the  same  power  of  reproducing  the 
various  qualities  of  drapery  and  flesh  and  hair  that  we  saw 
before  in  the  Borghese  groups,  and  there  is  in  the  face  and 
gesture  the  expression  of  self-effacement  in  religious  ecstasy 
that  is  the  most  noticeable  quality  of  the  later  figures  of  this 
kind.  As  he  grows  older,  these  two  characteristics  of  techni- 
cal differentiation  of  surface  and  of  ecstatic  expression  altered. 
While  he  lost  no  atom  of  technical  power  he  tended  to  lay  less 
stress  on  the  appearance  of  the  mere  surface  of  his  figures  and 
to  pay  more  attention  to  and  show  forth  more  clearly  their 
mental  condition.  In  doing  this  he  brought  into  being  figures 
as  truly  representative  of  the  religion  of  his  time  as  those  of 
Michael  Angelo  or  any  other  sculptor  of  any  epoch. 

Religious  emotion  must  always  call  forth  strong  feeling, 
but  the  strength  is  sometimes  shown  in  terms  of  apparent 
restraint,  at  others  it  shows  itself  in  violent  action.  Athena 
Parthenos  is  as  emotional  as  the  Santa  Theresa  and  Savona- 
rola, and  Luther  is  as  violent  as  the  Crusaders.  The  seven- 
teenth century  was  a time  when  men  thought  it  no  shame  to 
show  their  feelings.  The  Puritans  showed  them  as  clearly  as 
the  Italians,  though  in  a less  pleasant  form.  If  to-day  it  is 
difficult  to  realize  and  sympathize  with  the  sentiment  shown 
in  Bernini's  Sant’  Andrea,  or  Daniel,  or  Maria  di  Magdala,  it 
it  is  not  because  of  our  superiority,  but  rather  because  we  have 
lost  a very  precious  sense  and  power  of  spiritual  levitation. 
Look  at  the  Habakkuk.  Is  it  not  a splendid  presentation  of 


BERNINI 


27 


the  prophet  who  was  burdened  with  the  grievance  which  he 
beheld,  who  saw  for  so  long  the  righteous  compassed  about  by 
a “bitter  and  hasty”  race  that  he  felt  the  Lord  would  never 
respond  to  his  cry  ? But  even  as  he  complains  the  visible  an- 
swer of  the  Lord  appears,  and  the  Angel  with  playful  tender- 
ness pulls  at  his  hair  so  that  his  face  is  upturned  to  the  light 
of  Heaven,  not  any  longer  dark  with  earth’s  despair,  as  he  bids 
him  write  the  vision  of  the  Lord’s  judgment  that  shall  not 
tarry  — write  it  so  that  he  may  run  who  readeth.  And 
Habakkuk  still  points  to  the  iniquity  that  blackens  the  world 
and  the  angel  points  to  the  inevitably  approaching  woe.  It 
is  superbly  original.  It  is  deeply  felt. 

The  St.  Jerome  in  the  Duomo  at  Siena  is  another  very 
striking  figure ; if  it  seems  to  most  observers  unpleasant, 
this  is  mainly  because  it  does  not  conform  to  the  conventional 
and  uncharacteristic  way  they  are  accustomed  to  see  Jerome 
represented.  As  a subject  for  artists  he  has  been  treated  far 
more  often  by  painters  than  by  sculptors,  and  in  the  paintings 
the  mere  beauty  of  colour  and  of  surroundings  adds  charms 
which  are  uncharacteristic  of,  and  distract  from,  the  real 
interest  of  the  figure.  When  carved  by  Bernini,  there  is 
nothing  but  the  figure  to  consider  — whether  it  be  suggestive 
of  the  real  man  as  we  know  him  by  his  writings  or  not.  Prob- 
ably most  people  if  asked  what  image  the  name  of  the  saint 
brought  to  their  minds  would  recall  the  print  by  Dtirer  or 
some  painting  such  as  that  by  Catena  in  the  National  Gallery. 
But  splendid  as  the  print  and  the  painting  are,  it  is  only  by  a 
pleasant  fiction  and  by  refusing  to  regard  the  truth  that  they 
can  be  thought  to  represent  in  any  way  the  Saint  as  he  was 
among  men.  They  show  a very  gentle  old  man  in  the  neatest 


28 


STUDIES 


and  quietest  of  surroundings,  peacefully  writing  his  comments 
on  the  scriptures. 

It  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  his  contemporaries  regarded 
Jerome  primarily  as  a peaceful  and  abstracted  scholar.  Surely 
Bernini  did  not,  but  instead  shows  us  the  unhappy  wanderer 
and  ascetic  monk.  Scholarship  was  only  one  phase,  and 
among  the  people  with  whom  he  lived  scarcely  the  most  im- 
portant phase  of  St.  Jerome’s  life.  To  his  contemporaries  he 
showed  himself  chiefly  as  an  acrid  controversialist  taking  a 
leading  part  in  the  “strife  of  tongues.”  Unhappy  in  his 
Pannonian  home,  he  spent  a restless  youth  wandering  over 
Europe,  but  instead  of  peace  found  only  momentary  forgetful- 
ness in  pleasures,  the  remembrance  of  which  brought  deep 
sorrow  in  his  later  years.  Then  he  turned  to  asceticism  and 
sought  by  living  as  an  anchorite  in  the  desert  to  conform 
himself  to  the  teachings  of  his  Lord.  But  the  degradation  of 
such  a life,  the  unnatural  and  disgusting  view  it  took  of  the 
image  of  his  Maker  and  the  temple  of  his  soul,  the  morbid  in- 
trospection and  sterility  of  selfish  self-mortification,  brought 
him  trouble  and  pain,  not  calm,  till,  at  last,  an  old  man,  he 
died  in  Bethlehem  thoroughly  disheartened  with  the  iniquity 
of  the  world  and  the  horrors  resultant  on  the  destruction  of 
Rome  by  the  barbarians. 

Such  is  the  man  Bernini  sets  before  us.  The  battered,  way- 
worn feet ; the  strong,  coarse  body ; the  ragged,  unkempt 
hair  show  the  life  he  led.  The  face  bending  with  closed  eyes 
dreamily  over  the  figure  of  the  crucified  Christ  betrays  his 
holy,  misdirected  zeal.  What  he  was,  and  what  he  stood  for, 
could  not  be  shown  more  clearly  than  our  sculptor  has  shown  it 
here. 


BERNINI 


29 


Equally  fine,  and  in  certain  ways  more  beautiful,  is  the 
statue  of  Daniel  in  the  lions’  den,  which  Bernini  made  in 
1656  for  Cardinal  Chigi,  who  placed  it  with  the  Habakkuk  in 
Santa  Maria  del  Popolo.  The  youthful  and  splendidly  built 
figure  rests  on  one  knee,  his  hands  upraised  in  attitude  of 
prayer,  his  head  bent  back  with  eyes  wide  open  gazing  up- 
wards. From  one  shoulder,  beside  his  body  and  over  his  legs, 
falls  in  wind-blown  folds  a single  heavy  mantle.  A great 
lion  crouches  behind  him,  licking  his  foot.  In  its  perfect 
physical  beauty,  in  its  not  over-emphasised  anatomy  and  in 
its  entirely  successful  composition,  by  which  great  movement 
is  given  the  appearance  of  completeness  and  stability,  the 
figure  is  more  closely  allied  to  Bernini’s  earlier  works  than  to 
the  mystical  passionate  figures  such  as  the  Jerome  or  Mary  of 
Magdala  or  others  of  this  period.  It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell 
on  the  beauty  of  the  figure  and  the  technical  skill  it  displays, 
for  these  can  be  seen  by  anyone  whose  eye  and  hand  have  been 
trained  at  all. 

There  is  one  less  obvious  point,  however,  to  which  I wish 
to  draw  attention,  for  it  is  as  good  an  example  as  could  be  of 
what  I have  mentioned  above.  I refer  to  the  way  the  legs 
show  through  the  heavy  drapery  that  covers  them.  The 
mantle  does  actually  clothe  the  leg.  It  is  not  a mere  addition. 
It  takes  its  shape  and  movement  from  the  leg  beneath  it. 
The  one  cannot  be  thought  of  without  the  other.  Were  the 
statue  destroyed,  and  did  only  the  right  hip  or  left  knee 
remain,  one  would  instantly  recognise  what  parts  of  the  figure 
these  were.  But  classic  though  the  figure  is  in  general  ap- 
pearance — it  might  almost  be  one  of  the  Niobids  — the 
feeling  of  absolute  ecstatic  faith  is  very  clearly  given  in  the 


30 


STUDIES 


upturned  face  and  the  reaching  arms.1  Now  there  have  been 
times  — great  and  noble  times  - — when  men  did  believe  that 
God  would  send  angels  to  shut  the  mouths  of  lions,  and  when 
men  felt  no  fear,  but  only  a carefree  trust  in  His  help  if  true 
innocency  could  be  found  in  them. 

Such  work  is  not  baroque,  nor  decadent,  nor  over-emotional, 
as  it  is  commonly  and  thoughtlessly  said  to  be,  but  it  is  a 
very  adequate  and  convincing  representation  of  a powerful 
and  uplifting  spiritual  condition.  It  is  just  as  fine  as  the 
graver  and  more  sombre  figures  of  Greece,  or  as  the  sad  and 
ponderous  figures  of  Michael  Angelo. 

Of  all  the  figures  of  this  period  in  Bernini’s  development  the 
most  famous  is  the  Saint  Theresa  (Plate  IX).  It  is  hopeless  to 
express  in  words  the  great  beauty  of  this  figure.  This  can  no 
more  be  done  than  the  full  perfection  of  any  great  poem  can  be 
rendered  in  a translation.  The  work  is  perfect  in  itself,  and 
what  of  this  kind  can  be  shown  in  sculpture  is  here  expressed 
with  complete  and  ultimate  adequacy.  That  most  people 
are  startled  and  shocked  when  they  first  see  the  figure  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  they  do  not  think  of  what  the  scene  really 
means,  and  they  are  not  accustomed  to  seeing  scenes  of  divine 
significance  treated  with  perfect  simplicity  and  pure  faith. 

Not  that  such  scenes  ought  not  to  be  so  treated,  but  few 
are  the  artists  who  feel  deeply  enough  or  whose  technique  is 
finished  enough  to  enable  them  to  represent  a scene  of  this 
sort  so  clearly  and  beautifully.  As  a result,  the  artist  falls 
back  on  forms  which  have  been  repeated  so  often  that  they 
have  become  conventional  and  no  longer  can  give  the  beholder 

1 The  head  reminds  one  of  the  Capitoline  Alexander,  which  Bernini  may  have 
seen. 


Plate  IX 


BERNINI 


31 


the  full  impression  of  their  meaning.  No  one  is  offended  on 
seeing  the  Son  of  God  bleeding  on  the  cross  around  which 
surges  a host  of  idle  spectators,  or  at  seeing  Him  in  the  manger 
before  which  all  the  nobles  of  Florence  kneel  in  various  the- 
atric attitudes.  But  Saint  Theresa  is  a figure  new  to  them,  and 
to  have  her  shown  in  the  crisis  of  her  ecstasy  with  other  figures 
looking  on  from  the  walls  of  the  chapel,  offends  their  “sense 
of  propriety”  and  seems  “paradoxical,”  “perfervid”  and  “in- 
consequent.” 1 

Were  this  a fair  criticism,  a large  number  of  the  most 
beautiful  works  of  Christian  art  would  fall  under  the  same 
condemnation.  Far  more  paradoxical  than  Bernini’s  figure 
are  the  representations  of  the  Marriage  of  Saint  Catharine, 
and  they  are  quite  as  unpleasing  if  thought  of  in  their  literal 
sense.  As  for  the  figures  looking  at  the  Saint  from  the  “opera 
boxes”  at  the  sides  of  the  chapel,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
at  this  time  most  of  the  drama  in  Italy  was  founded  on  re- 
ligious subjects,  and  such  dramatic  representation  made  a 
very  deep  appeal  to  men’s  minds.  The  critics  who  find  the 
Saint  Theresa  in  bad  taste  do  not  hesitate  to  form  part  of  the 
audience  when  Christ’s  Passion  is  played  among  the  hills  of 
Oberammergau,  and  they  will  no  longer  be  afraid  to  render 
Bernini  the  homage  that  is  his  due  when  they  cease  lazily  to 
measure  his  work  by  conservative  standards.  The  glory  of  a 
comet  is  not  measured  by  the  Eddystone  Light  nor  a miracle 
by  the  conventions  of  ordinary  society. 

One  other  point  concerning  this  statue  remains  to  be  con- 
sidered. A recent  critic  2 says  that  “there  are  many  ecsta- 

1 Balcarres,  The  Evolution  of  Italian  Sculpture,  p.  333-334. 

2 Balcarres,  op.  cit.,  p.  334. 


32 


STUDIES 


sies,  and  Bernini  has  chosen  something  that  borders  closely  on 
the  most  displeasing.”  In  this  he  expresses  a common  opinion, 
based,  I believe,  on  a misconception,  and  on  ugly,  puritanical 
prudishness.  Possibly  there  are  many  ecstasies,  but  religious 
ecstasy,  the  ecstasy  of  the  Saint  in  joining  herself  to  the 
spiritual  existence  of  Christ,  and  the  pure  and  natural  ecstasy 
of  love  when  self  is  lost  in  the  future  of  the  race,  are  as  nearly 
as  possible  identical.  The  Venus  de  Medici  is  far  more  dis- 
pleasing than  the  Saint  Theresa. 

In  one  portion  of  the  group  Bernini  certainly  did  fail,  and 
in  a way  that  is  surprising.  Usually  his  figures  of  angels  are 
successful,  but  the  one  standing  over  Saint  Theresa  is  assuredly 
very  bad.  Its  figure  is  unconvincing,  and  its  face,  with  tilted 
nose  and  silly  smile,  is  more  that  of  a Greek  paniskos  than  of 
a heavenly  messenger.  But  notwithstanding  this  blemish,  no 
work  by  Michael  Angelo  or  any  other  sculptor  ever  made  the 
beholder  forget  so  completely  the  substance  out  of  which  it  is 
carved,  and  think  only  of  the  scene  represented  as  Bernini  has 
done  here.  He  has  given  the  softness  of  life  to  the  snow-white 
stone.  His  hand  and  mind  worked  in  perfect  accord  and 
produced  a work  unrivalled  in  technique  and  of  very  great 
beauty. 

Another  statue  of  similar  character  is  the  Beata  Albertona. 
It  is  a little  less  delicate  in  treatment  and  more  emphatic  in 
expression  than  the  Saint  Theresa,  but  is,  none  the  less,  of  very 
great  beauty  and  power. 

Were  a man’s  failures  as  worth  study  as  his  successes,  I 
could  mention  works  by  Bernini  which  are  distinctly  bad. 
The  Maria  di  Magdala  is  one.  Though  full  of  feeling,  the 
figure  of  the  Saint  is  coarse  and  clumsy.  But  though  a man’s 


BERNINI 


33 


defeats  show,  of  course,  the  principles  for  which  he  stood,  his 
victories  are  more  worth  considering  and  are  the  fairest  test 
of  him.  A very  false  estimate  of  Michael  Angelo  would  re- 
sult if  one  considered  the  Rondanini  Pieta,  the  David,  or  the 
Christ  in  Santa  Maria  sopra  Minerva  as  of  equal  importance 
with  his  other  works. 

It  was  not  only  in  works  in  marble  that  Bernini  showed  his 
power  as  a sculptor.  He  handled  dark,  impressive  bronze 
with  the  same  complete  understanding  of  its  qualities  and 
possibilities  that  he  showed  in  carving  the  gleaming  Carrara 
marble.  Such  a work  as  the  Baldacchino  in  St.  Peter’s  is 
beyond  any  words  to  praise.  It  is  enormous,  but  not  clumsy, 
and  sumptuous  without  being  ornate.  The  most  stupendous 
of  his  bronze  works  is  not,  however,  the  Baldacchino , but  the 
Throne,  the  Cattedra  in  the  apse  of  St.  Peter’s.  It  was  in  1657, 
during  the  pontificate  of  Alexander  VII,  that  Bernini  was 
ordered  to  carry  out  his  design  for  this  work,  and  eight  years 
later  it  was  finished  and  uncovered  to  the  admiration  of  all 
Rome. 

This  monument  is  too  well  known  to  need  detailed  descrip- 
tion here,  but  it  is  well  here  to  recall  its  purpose,  which  was 
not  for  actual  ceremonial  use  by  the  Popes,  but  to  serve  as  a 
frame,  or  strong-box,  for  the  ancient  chair  of  carved  ivory  on 
which  tradition  said,  and  the  whole  Catholic  world  then  be- 
lieved, St.  Peter  had  himself  sat.  There  in  the  heart  of  the 
greatest  Christian  Church,  raised  above  the  soiling  earth, 
high  in  air  for  the  thronging  worshippers  to  behold,  was  to  be 
the  visible  and  material  sign  of  infallibility.  Bernini  alone 
had  the  feeling  that  made  him  capable  of  such  a task.  Four 
magnificent  figures  of  Doctors  of  the  Church  support  the 


34 


STUDIES 


chair  — two  of  the  Western  church,  Saint  Augustine  and 
Saint  Ambrose,  and  two  of  the  Eastern,  Saint  Chrysostom  and 
Saint  Athanasius.  Stately  great  figures ; on  their  outstretched 
hands  they  hold  the  Throne  with  the  ease  that  comes  of  per- 
fect faith,  raising  it  up  even  as  sixteen  hundred  years  before 
the  Apostles  had  raised  up  this  earth  for  the  glory  of  God. 

In  all  these  religious  works  by  Bernini  there  is  beside  the 
expression  of  the  faith  that  begot  them  the  expression  of  a 
decorative  sense,  something  dramatic.  He  delighted  in  move- 
ment and  expression  for  the  mere  sake  of  beauty  of  active 
form,  and  this  feeling  of  joy  in  life,  in  the  spirit  of  movement, 
whether  in  Nature  or  in  Man,  Bernini  reproduced  in  a series 
of  works  which  by  themselves  would  make  him  unique  among 
all  sculptors  and  which  give  Rome  a distinction  and  character 
far  more  decisive  than  her  ruins  or  palaces  and  set  her  alone 
and  apart  from  all  other  cities.  These  are  the  fountains. 

The  list  of  fountains  is  of  amazing  length.  The  Barcaccia 
in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna,  one  in  the  Villa  Mattei,  one  in  the 
Vatican  Gardens,  another  in  the  Barberini  Gardens,  the 
Triton  in  the  Piazza  Barberini ; the  lovely  shell  which  used 
to  be  on  the  corner  of  the  Via  Sistina,  but  has  been  destroyed 
to  make  way  for  modern  improvements  so  called ; in  the 
courtyard  of  the  Palazzo  Antamoro,  in  the  Piazza  Navona, 
and  the  broad  pool  of  the  Fountain  of  Trevi.  They  have  the 
infinite  variety  and  infinite  pleasantness  of  Nature  herself. 
By  the  side  of  the  placid  pool  whence  the  ciociaras  draw  the 
water  for  their  flowers,  or  where  the  sparkling  stream  of  the 
Triton  shoots  heavenward  from  the  gray  pavements  like  a 
white  crocus  from  the  frosty  ground  in  Spring ; where  the 
Nile,  the  Ganges,  the  Plata  and  the  Danube  pour  forth  their 


BERNINI 


35 


incessant  floods,  or  where  Neptune  shepherds  his  foaming 
steeds  over  the  rocks  as  they  dash  down  into  the  pool  that  if 
we  once  drink  from  our  hearts  evermore  yearn  for  the  Eternal 
City  — by  each  and  all  of  his  fountains  our  ears  are  filled  with 
the  pleasant  voices  of  the  waters  and  our  eyes  with  the  sight 
of  the  nymphs  and  nereids  who  gambolled  among  the  water- 
courses when  the  world  was  young. 

What  the  secret  of  their  charm  ? No  one  ever  understood 
the  artistic  value  of  water  as  Bernini  did.  No  one  else  ever 
held  in  check  the  full  stream  and  gave  it  back  again  the  ripples, 
and  spurts  and  sudden  rushes  of  its  upper  course  and  of  its 
source.  The  angels  must  have  washed  his  spirit  in  the  foun- 
tain of  eternal  youth  to  enable  him  to  express  the  joy  which 
flowed  through  his  veins  in  the  undying  music  of  the  waves, 
moulding  and  combining  them  to  his  intention  as  a musician 
makes  the  rough  strings  of  his  instrument  sing  of  the  life 
that  lies  hidden  in  them  till  his  knowing  touch  gives  them 
voice.1 

I have  spoken  of  the  groups  representing  classic  myths, 
of  the  innumerable  statues  motived  by  religion  and  of  the 
fountains,  but  even  this  huge  mass  of  work  does  not  come  near 
completing  the  list  of  Bernini’s  output.  The  numerous  por- 
traits remain  to  be  considered.  Some,  such  as  the  Constan- 
tine in  St.  Peter’s,  were  ideal,  but  most  were  of  his  patrons 
and  friends  and  were  of  very  varied  types.  There  were  co- 
lossal equestrian  statues,  ordinary  busts,  full-length  figures 
and  groups  for  tombs,  and  they  show  that  he  possessed  just 

1 In  relation  to  the  influence  of  ancient  work  on  Bernini,  it  is  worth  note  that  the 
four  great  figures  in  the  Piazza  Navona  are  very  Hellenistic  in  character  and  would, 
if  turned  into  reliefs  with  their  surrounding  trees  and  animals,  resemble  closely  the 
fountain-reliefs  of  the  Graeco-Roman  world. 


36 


STUDIES 


as  great  skill  in  direct  portraiture  as  in  more  purely  imagina- 
tive work. 

To  carve  or  paint  a successful  portrait,  two  powers  are 
absolutely  essential  to  the  artist.  On  the  one  hand  he  must 
have  the  sympathy  that  will  enable  him  to  comprehend  the 
sitter’s  character,  and  to  see  what  lines  and  expressions  of  the 
face  express  that  character  most  clearly  ; on  the  other  he  must 
have  the  power  of  suppressing  his  own  individuality  and  of 
lending  his  hand  and  eye,  as  it  were,  to  the  sitter  to  make  the 
portrait  himself.  If  the  artist  lacks  sympathy,  he  will  pro- 
duce a work  which  may  be  correct  in  all  detail  of  colour,  line 
and  modelling,  but  it  will  only  be  a sort  of  mask ; if  he  lacks 
the  power  of  self-suppression,  the  work  will  be  unlike  the  sitter, 
even  though  true  in  detail,  because  it  will  show  not  his  char- 
acter, but  that  of  the  artist.  Bernini  illustrates  these  points 
with  perfect  precision,  and  as  a result  his  portraits  are  unsur- 
passed by  those  of  any  other  artist  of  the  Renaissance  and  are 
far  finer  than  the  quaint  efforts  of  the  earlier  sculptors  which 
many  students  of  art  admire  with  the  enthusiasm  of  deca- 
dence and  a fatuous  misunderstanding  of  both  the  value  of  art 
and  the  aim  of  the  artist. 

Just  as  it  was  fortunate  for  Turnei  that  in  his  early  years  he 
was  forced  to  draw  with  painstaking  accuracy,  so  was  Fate  kind 
to  the  young  Bernini  in  giving  him  to  do,  when  he  was  but  four- 
teen or  fifteen  years  old,  the  portraits  of  two  well-known  Prel- 
ates. Success  in  these  meant  fame  and  an  assured  future  for 
the  boy.  Like  every  genius  he  must  have  felt,  with  perfect 
simplicity,  with  no  conceit,  his  power;  but  what  must  have 
been  his  feelings  of  tremulous  satisfaction  when,  the  busts  un- 
veiled, the  crowd  of  Cardinals  and  Prelates  who  were  gathered 


BERNINI 


37 


to  see  his  work,  broke  into  enthusiastic  applause?  The  cheering 
words  of  those  long  since  silent  voices  echo  again  in  our  hearts 
as  we  look  at  these  busts  of  the  Bishop  Santoni  and  of  Mon- 
signor Montoya,  for  two  more  perfect  portraits  can  hardly  be 
found. 

A mere  child  made  them;  a boy  whom  one  could  more 
easily  think  of  playing  at  marbles  in  the  sunlit  street;  but 
instead  his  playground  is  the  Temple  of  the  Lord  and  his  toys 
the  souls  of  men.  The  mere  knowledge  of  anatomy  and  the 
technical  skill  they  show  is  most  unusual  for  one  so  young,  but 
what  shall  be  said  of  the  spiritual  insight  of  the  artist  who 
carved  these  two  bowed  heads  with  their  sweet,  strong,  grave 
faces  ? The  excellence  of  the  ancient  Greek,  in  certain  forms 
of  sculpture,  has  given  us  his  name  as  an  adjective  to  express 
one  kind  of  superlative  merit  and  these  two  busts  can,  with 
perfect  accuracy,  be  called  Greek.  They  are  as  like  as  can 
be  to  the  bronze  bust  by  some  unknown  Grecian  sculptor 
which  in  the  Museo  dei  Conservatori  bears  the  name  of  Brutus. 

As  in  his  other  work,  so  in  the  making  of  portraits  Bernini 
soon  broke  away  from  traditional  methods  and  gave  his  own 
spirit  full  sway.  This  is  evident  in  the  bust  of  Costanza 
Buonavelli,  his  mistress,  which  is  one  of  the  treasures  of  the 
National  Museum  in  Florence.  It  is  not  only  the  technical 
skill  with  which  he  gave  the  different  qualities  of  the  pleated 
dress,  the  round  soft  neck  and  cheeks  and  the  blown  tresses 
of  waving  hair  that  make  this  portrait  so  remarkable,  but 
beyond  this  one  sees  in  it  the  artist’s  own  human  love  for  the 
actual  woman  and  his  delight  in  her  as  a suggestion  of  a beauti- 
ful work  of  art.  This  bust  is  unique  among  his  works,  for  the 
woman  who  inspired  it  then,  with  thoughtless  animal  selfish- 


38 


STUDIES 


ness,  killed  the  inspiration  she  had  begotten.  The  bust  is 
the  tombstone  for  the  most  sensitive  part  of  Bernini’s  heart. 

Among  the  other  busts  of  his  early  years  are  one  of  his 
great  patron  Paul  V (Borghese)  and  two  of  his  steadfast  friend 
Cardinal  Scipio  Borghese.1  They  are  all  of  them  noteworthy, 
but  the  finest  is  the  first  one  he  made  of  the  Cardinal.  In 
this  the  growth  of  Bernini’s  dramatic  feeling  is  very  plain  and 
is  shown  in  a technical  way  which  he  repeated  many  times 
thereafter.  It  is  this.  He  carves  not  alone  the  head  and  a 
small  portion  of  the  breast,  but  he  gives  the  whole  upper  part 
of  the  torso  and  arms  and  skilfully  suggests  by  the  turn  and 
position  of  this  part  the  action  of  the  whole  body,  so  that  as 
one  looks  at  this  bust  of  Scipio  Borghese,  one  has  the  feeling 
of  seeing  not  his  head  alone  but  his  whole  figure.  The  won- 
derful realism  with  which  Bernini  has  rendered  the  crinkly 
silk  cape  and  the  rolling  flesh  of  the  fat  face  with  the  lips  just 
parted  as  though  the  burly  Cardinal  were  whistling  for  breath 
is  obvious  to  the  most  casual  observation  ; but  realistic  though 
the  bust  is,  Bernini  was  skilful  enough  to  give  chief  emphasis 
to  the  character  of  the  sitter  so  that  the  impression  that  one 
takes  away  with  one  is  not  of  the  external  appearance  of  the 
figure  so  much  as  of  his  nature  and  quality  as  a man.  In  many 
ways  it  closely  resembles  the  portrait  of  Pope  Innocent  by 
Velasquez. 

Other  portraits  are  to  be  seen  not  only  in  Rome,  but  in 
Modena,  at  Versailles  and  even  at  Windsor ; for,  as  Bernini’s 
fame  spread,  the  great  people  all  sought  him  and  even  Louis 
XIV  and  Charles  I were  delighted  to  have  the  artist  give  them 

1 The  one  of  Paul  V is  in  the  Villa  Borghese,  Rome ; the  other  two  are  in  the 
National  Gallery,  Venice. 


Plate  X, 


BERNINI 


39 


that  immortality  which  neither  their  deeds  nor  position  could 
assure  them.  One  of  the  quieter  and  less  dramatic  works  is 
the  beautiful  bust  of  Monsignor  Francesco  Barberini.  It  is 
realistic  like  the  Cardinal  Borghese,  but  the  realism  is  made 
subordinate  to  a higher  aim  and  only  used  to  emphasise  the 
ideal  character  of  the  work. 

Numerous  as  are  these  effigies  by  Bernini  of  Popes  and  lesser 
men,  there  are  two  which  stand  out  above  all  the  rest  as  un- 
surpassed in  art  and  as  combining  and  illustrating  more  fully 
than  any  others  the  character  of  the  time,  of  the  sitter  and  of 
the  artist  which,  all  together,  made  them  possible.  They  are 
of  Francis  I of  Este,  now  in  Modena,  and  of  Louis  XIV  (Plate 
X),  at  Versailles.  The  first  was  made  in  1651,  the  second  dur- 
ing Bernini’s  visit  to  Paris  in  1665.  Only  Bernini  was  capable 
of  representing  these  two  proud  princes  in  all  their  splendour 
of  ornamental  wig,  and  lace  and  armour.  It  demanded  tech- 
nique such  as  his  to  make  anything  but  a great  lump  of 
complex  and  ugly  form  out  of  such  settings  for  the  head  as 
these ; and  he  succeeded,  to  the  unquestioned  admiration  of 
all  time. 

That  was  an  epoch  when  men  liked  theatrical  display  of 
all  sorts,  when  what  in  these  colder  days  seems  exaggerated 
expression  was  natural  and  pleasing  to  people.  Bernini  knew 
and  understood  this,  had  often  himself  been  employed  in 
writing  plays  or  arranging  stage  scenery,  and  has  represented 
the  two  rulers  just  as  they  delighted  to  show  and  think  of 
themselves,  adorned  with  all  that  was  rich  and  splendid, 
haughty  and  disdainful  as  was  the  nature  of  those  endowed 
with  the  divine  right  of  Kings.  Even  more  than  in  the  case 
of  the  portrait  of  Cardinal  Borghese  do  these  two  busts  seem  to 


40 


STUDIES 


make  us  see  the  whole  figure  and  yet  they  have  an  appearance 
of  lightness  that  is  most  surprising.  Not  to  be  made  again 
such  busts  — nor  such  men.  Democracy,  and  a belief  in 
equality  as  absurd  as  that  in  Kingship  was  overweening,  have 
snuffed  out  all  such  pretensions,  and  have  snuffed  out  the  art 
too.  But  thanks  to  Bernini  we  have  the  record  of  them.  We 
see  them  in  their  moment  of  splendid  satisfaction  and  self- 
confidence,  and  made  beautiful  through  mere  enjoyment  of 
their  bubble  reputation. 

The  final  value  of  portraiture  is  that  it  should  be  character- 
istic of  the  person  depicted.  No  matter  how  great  the  skill 
shown  in  giving  Napoleon  the  appearance  of  a Greek  athlete 
or  Washington  that  of  Olympian  Zeus,  such  works  are  only 
folly  and  waste.  Bernini  made  no  such  mistake,  but  with 
deep  insight  and  unrivalled  skill  proved  himself  one  of  the 
greatest  portraitists  of  all  time. 

I have  spoken  of  Bernini’s  versatility.  I have  considered 
in  some  detail  the  sculpture  by  which  he  is  best  remembered. 
Of  his  painting  not  much  is  left,  and  what  remains  is  naturally 
not  of  any  great  value  as  art.  Still  less  is  left  of  his  work  as 
an  organiser  of  plays  and  arranger  of  processions  or  carnival 
displays.  A few  drawings  and  engravings  and  some  slight 
accounts  by  contemporaries  give  us  an  idea  of  this  work  of 
his,  but  it  was  the  occupation  of  his  more  idle  hours  and  is 
of  little  moment.  Of  his  architectural  work  a good  deal  is 
still  to  be  seen,  though  in  many  instances  later  workmen  have 
added  to  or  altered  the  original  structure,  which  was  almost 
always  skilful  and  big  in  conception,  though  occasionally  he 
made  a mistake,  as  when  he  put  the  towers  — asses’  ears  his 
contemporaries  called  them  — on  the  Pantheon. 


BERNINI 


41 


The  structure  by  which  Bernini  is  best  known  is  the  double 
colonnade  of  the  Piazza  of  St.  Peter’s.  Of  this  his  original 
sketch  book  still  exists.1  It  is  an  intensely  interesting  record 
of  the  different  schemes  and  plans  which  Bernini  worked  at  till 
in  the  end  he  produced  the  splendid  simple  and  grand  design 
which  gives  Rome  the  finest  public  square  in  the  world. 

There  are  several  sheets  of  drawings  in  the  book,  some  show- 
ing Leonardesque  studies  of  the  relations  between  the  propor- 
tions of  the  human  figure  and  those  of  architecture,  others  show 
views  down  the  Borgo  from  the  church  or  looking  up  towards 
St.  Peter’s  with  plans  for  the  rearrangement  of  the  district, 
and  some  are  views  and  designs  of  various  types  of  colonnade 
showing  deep  study  of  their  perspective  appearance.  But 
of  all  these  sketches,  there  is  one  of  far  greater  interest  than 
all  the  others,  for  it  shows  that  insight  into  the  deeper  meaning 
of  things  which  made  Bernini  the  supreme  genius  he  was 
(Plate  XXX). 

On  this  sheet  are  two  similar  drawings  showing  St.  Peter’s  and 
the  colonnade.  Over  these,  as  though  they  formed  the  head 
and  arms  of  a cross,  is  drawn  a bearded  figure,  his  head  crowned 
by  the  dome  of  the  church,  his  arms  outstretched  on  the  col- 
onnades and  with  his  feet  crossed  slightly  one  above  the  other 
and  resting  just  where,  at  the  beginning  of  the  Borgo,  Bernini 
intended,  as  another  of  the  sketches  makes  plain,  to  put  a 
building.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  after  seeing  this  drawing, 
that  Bernini’s  intention  was  to  make  the  Piazza  symbolic  of 

1 In  the  Brandegee  Collection.  It  was  published  by  Signor  Busiri-Vici  in 
his  work  La  Piazza  Vaticana,  Rome,  1890,  and  by  Fraschetti,  op.  cit.,  p.  307. 
The  latter  gives  reduced  and  poor  reproductions  of  the  drawings.  We  have 
thought  it  worth  while  therefore  to  reproduce  them  on  a larger  scale ; see  Part  III 
of  this  Study. 


42 


STUDIES 


Christ  and  the  Crucifixion.  Evidently  not  a mere  builder 
of  houses  this  man  Gian  Lorenzo  Bernini,  but  somehow,  and 
somewhence,  he  has  got  a poet’s  vision  and  he  makes  his  mark 
in  the  world  not  merely  by  moulded  clay  and  shaped  stones, 
but  by  shaping  men’s  hearts  and  moulding  their  ideas. 

Such  was  Bernini,  one  of  the  great  artists  of  the  world. 
It  is  true  that  he  was  revolutionary,  but  he  destroyed  not 
through  ignorance  or  envy.  He  destroyed  merely  that  he 
might  then  create.  The  arts  in  his  day  were  strangled  by 
academic  rules  and  had  become  cold  and  lifeless.  The  in- 
tensity with  which  he  felt  things  gave  him  strength  to  break 
these  bonds  and  to  make  sculpture  once  more  a means  of 
conveying  living  thoughts  and  emotions.  He  was  like  the 
butterfly  which  tears  away  the  stiff-plated  chrysalis  before 
it  can  spread  its  wings  in  the  free  air.  It  is  useless  to  try  to 
explain  his  technical  skill ; he  was  born  with  it,  just  as  others 
are  born  with  a keen  sense  of  colour  or  a musical  ear,  but  it  is 
certain  that  without  it  he  could  never  have  carved  such  figures 
as  the  Saint  Theresa  or  the  portrait  of  Fonseca  1 which  show 
intense  emotion  brought  on  by  loss  of  all  sense  of  self  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  mystical  meaning  of  the  Passion.  Such 
feeling  could  not  be  shown  by  restrained  action  and  quiet 
faces.  Much  movement  was  necessary  and  the  works  are 
successful  and  beautiful  because  the  feeling  shown  is  perfectly 
simple  and  natural  and  not  forced  and  put  on  for  the  sake  of 
effect. 

Bernini’s  technical  power  made  him,  however,  a bad  master 
for  others  to  imitate.  Not  that  the  work  of  his  followers  is 
any  more  inane  than  that  of  the  copiers  of  Michael  Angelo 


1 In  San  Lorenzo  in  Lucina,  Rome. 


BERNINI 


43 


or  of  those  of  any  other  great  man,  but  his  peculiarities  were 
such  as  are  at  least  superficially  easy  to  see.  Where  he  quite 
easily  and  simply  distinguished  between  the  appearance  of 
silk  or  flesh,  his  imitators  wasted  their  energies  on  elaborate 
arrangements,  the  only  object  of  which  was  to  show  technical 
dexterity.  Where  he  carved  figures  that  are  racked  and  torn 
with  feeling,  the  imitators  gave  forms  that  are  contorted  and 
as  unemotional  as  gymnasts.  But  he  is  not  to  be  blamed  for 
their  work.  By  no  means  was  he  one  of  the  blind  leading 
the  blind.  He  was  the  seer,  the  prophet,  by  odd  chance  hon- 
oured in  his  own  home,  whose  visions  were  so  believed  by 
his  followers  that  they  vainly  tried  to  see  the  like.  What 
their  eves  strained  towards  and  failed  to  see,  his  heart  yearned 
for  and  gained.  To  them  praise  was  a prize  to  win,  to  him  it 
was  a spur  to  renewed  effort  and  further  advance.  He  had 
faults,  as  who  has  not,  but  they  were  due  to  his  being  a path- 
breaker  and  having  to  find  out  for  himself  ways  to  carve  and 
show  figures  such  as  no  sculptor  before  him  had  ever  dreamed 
of ; they  were  not  the  faults  of  ignorance  or  stupidity.  If  it 
be  well  for  us  that  we  judge  not  lest  we  be  judged,  so  too  is  it 
well,  should  we  judge  Bernini  or  other  men,  to  judge  not  what 
there  is  in  him  of  weakness  or  failure,  but  what  there  may  be 
of  noble  intention  and  high  endeavour.  Doing  this  we  shall 
see  that  Bernini,  working  always  with  bowed  heart,  but  with 
uplifted  spirit,  broke  down  the  middle  wall  of  partition  be- 
tween art  and  life. 


II.  A COLLECTION  OF  SCULPTOR’S  MODELS 
BY  BERNINI 


The  clay  models  by  Bernini,  descriptions  of  which  follow, 
form  one  of  the  most  interesting  artistic  records  left  us  of 
the  sculpture  of  the  Renaissance.  Drawings  made  by  the 
painters  of  that  period  to  serve  as  studies  for  their  pictures 
are  not  uncommon,  but  the  sketch-models  made  by  the 
sculptors  are  rare. 

This  is  because  sculptors  carved  the  marble  without  any 
previous  models,  as  Michael  Angelo  frequently  did,  or  else 
that  the  models,  being  cumbrous  and  of  material  that  was 
easily  destroyed,  have,  in  the  course  of  years,  been  got  rid  of 
either  intentionally  or  by  accident.  It  may  seem  strange  to 
suggest  that  the  clay  of  which  the  sculptors  may  have  made 
their  studies  is  more  liable  to  destruction  than  the  paper 
used  by  the  painters,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  while 
nothing  is  more  durable  than  baked  clay,  air-dried  clay  is 
extremely  perishable.  Wax  was  also  used  by  the  sculptors 
for  their  preliminary  sketches,  but  this,  owing  to  expense, 
could  never  have  served  for  work  of  any  great  size  or  quan- 
tity ; and  even  if  less  apt  to  complete  disintegration  than 
unbaked  clay,  it  is  very  liable  to  injury. 

What  precisely  was  the  origin  of  this  collection  of  Bernini’s 
models  we  cannot  tell ; but  it  is  our  great  good  fortune  that 
when  they  were  made  there  was  some  one,  perhaps  one  of 


44 


Plate  XII 


'MIX  ajVTci 


BERNINI 


45 


Bernini’s  pupils,  who  cared  for  them  and  saw  to  their  being 
properly  dried  or  baked  so  that  they  have  preserved  their 
pristine  freshness.  It  is  also  extremely  fortunate  that  their 
present  owner  realized  their  great  beauty  and  extreme  interest 
and  added  them  to  the  artistic  treasures  stored  in  America, 
where  they  will  serve  in  the  ages  to  come  to  show  students 
and  sculptors  a clear  reflection  of  the  mind  of  one  of  the 
world’s  greatest  artists. 

In  the  Museum  at  Berlin  are  other  models  by  Bernini,  but 
there  is,  so  far  as  I know,  no  other  collection,  either  public 
or  private,  that  approaches  the  Brandegee  Collection  in  number, 
variety  or  excellence  of  these  works.  In  America  I know 
of  but  one  other  model  purporting  to  be  by  Bernini.  It  is 
in  the  Morgan  collection  and  represents  Pope  Urban  VIII, 
but  it  does  not  show  a single  touch  by  the  master;  it  is  an 
imitation,  copied  from  the  statue  in  the  Campidoglio  at 
Rome.  In  the  collection  of  the  late  Mme.  Edouard  Aynard, 
sold  in  Paris,  December  1-4,  1913,  were  two  terra-cotta  models 
of  angels  (lot  307)  “attributes  au  chevalier  Bernin,  d’apres 
les  originaux  du  port  Sant  Ange,  a Rome,”  and  one  equestrian 
statuette  in  the  same  material  (lot  308),  said  to  be  the  “es- 
quisse  originale  de  la  statue  en  marbre  de  Louis  XIV,  dans 
le  pare  de  Versailles,  par  le  chevalier  Bernin.”  The  two 
angels  are  certainly  not  by  Bernini ; the  portrait  may  be. 

From  the  artistic  point  of  view  these  models  are  of  the 
highest  importance,  for  they  show  with  startling  clearness 
the  great  fertility  of  invention  which  characterized  Bernini 
and  the  vivid  way  in  which  he  visualized  the  creations  of  his 
brain.  There  is  not  a trace  of  effort  in  them,  there  is  not  a 
sign  of  rubbing  out  or  doing  over,  but  each  group  or  figure 


46 


STUDIES 


was  obviously  seen  by  him  with  the  sharpness  of  a dream 
and  reproduced  by  his  skilful  fingers  in  the  fresh  clay  while 
the  impulse  and  uplift  of  the  vision  was  still  on  him. 

The  knowledge  of  the  purely  technical  side  of  the  art  of 
sculpture  which  the  models  reveal  is  magnificent.  The  way, 
for  instance,  in  which  the  various  planes  are  treated  in  the 
oval  relief  of  the  Virgin  and  Child  (Plate  XXVI)  is  as  subtle 
as,  and  very  similar  to,  that  of  the  reliefs  on  the  ancient 
vases  from  Arezzo,  while  the  relation  of  draped  portions 
of  the  figures  to  the  parts  left  nude,  and  the  manner  in  which 
the  body  beneath  gives  life  and  meaning  to  the  covering 
drapery,  is  as  fine  as  any  work  by  Pheidias. 

But  the  most  fascinating  and  interesting  characteristic 
of  these  terra-cotta  figures  is  that  one  sees  in  every  least 
portion  of  them  how  Bernini’s  fingers,  trained  by  long  years 
of  hard  practice,  played  over  the  wet  clay  like  wavering  flame 
and  moulded  the  dead  material  to  enduring  forms  of  beauty. 
Once  more  the  old  mythology  comes  true,  and  Pygmalion, 
taking  the  rough  material  offered  him  by  Mother  Earth,  fondled 
it,  and,  warming  it  with  the  fires  of  his  brain,  gave  it  back  the 
life  that  lies  asleep  till  the  lover’s  kiss  wakes  it  once  again. 

DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  MODELS 
No.  1.  — Plate  XI 

Seated  female  figure  in  high  relief,  wearing  helmet,  and  heavily  draped ; 
the  left  cheek  rests  on  the  back  of  the  raised  left  hand.  Feet  missing. 

For  the  tablet  in  memory  of  Carlo  Barberini  in  Santa  Maria  d’Aracoeli, 
Rome. 

Width  10  inches. 

No.  2.  — Plate  XII 

Figure  of  Longinus,  in  St.  Peter’s.  In  the  round,  and  gilded. 

Height  20f  inches. 


« 


Plate  XIV, 


Plate  XV. 


Plate  XVII 


Plate  XVIII 


BERNINI 


47 


No.  3.  — Plate  XIII,  a 

Two  putti,  for  the  decoration  of  the  piers  in  St.  Peter’s.  High  relief. 
The  scale  of  measurement  is  scratched  on  the  right  edge.  The  wings  are 
broken  from  the  lower  figure. 

Height  Ilf  inches. 

No.  4.  — Plate  XIII,  b 

Another  two  putti,  also  for  St.  Peter’s.  The  scale  of  measurement  is 
scratched  on  the  left  edge.  The  wings  are  broken  from  the  upper  figure. 

Height  Ilf  inches. 

Nos.  5,  6,  7,  8.  — Plates  XIV,  XV 

Four  heavily  draped  bearded  male  Saints,  for  the  Ciborio  in  the  Cap- 
pella  del  Sacramento  in  St.  Peter’s. 

The  figures  stand  on  thin,  square  plinths,  one  of  which  (Height  10§ 
inches  ; Plate  XIV,  a)  is  unmarked,  but  on  the  other  three  are  the  names 
Bartolomeo  (Height  lOf  inches  ; Plate  XV,  6),  Tomaso  (Height  10f  inches ; 
Plate  XIV,  b),  and  Filippo  (Height  10  inches;  Plate  XV,  a). 

The  heads  of  all  four  are  turned  to  the  left,  and  the  figures  rest  their 
weight  on  the  right  leg.  The  left  arm  of  the  Bartolomeo  is  gone,  but  was 
outstretched ; the  others  all  stretch  out  their  right  arm. 


No.  9.  — Plate  XVI 

Bas-relief  with  half-figures  of  four  men,  and  traces  of  architectural  back- 
ground. 

For  the  side  wall  of  the  Cappella  Borghese  in  Santa  Maria  della  Vittoria, 
Rome. 

Width  17|  inches. 

No.  10.  — Plate  XVII 

Half  figure  of  a Triton  holding  a draped  woman  on  his  shoulders. 

For  a fountain.  The  head  and  arms  of  the  woman  are  gone. 

Height  19§  inches. 

No.  11.— Plate  XVIII 
Front  part  of  the  head  of  a bearded  man. 

For  the  Saint  Jerome  in  the  Cappella  Chigi  in  the  Duomo  of  Siena. 
Height  13|  inches. 


No.  12.  — Plate  XIX,  a 

Model  (head  missing)  for  the  kneeling  Angel  on  the  left  of  the  Ciborio 
in  the  Cappella  del  Sacramento,  St.  Peter’s. 

Height  11  inches. 


48 


STUDIES 


No.  13.  — Plate  XX,  a 

Another  model  for  the  same  figure.  Tip  of  right  wing  missing. 

Height  11  j inches. 

No.  14.  — Plate  XX,  b 

Angel  on  the  right  of  the  Ciborio  in  the  Cappella  del  Sacramento. 

Other  models  for  these  two  Angels  are  mentioned  by  Fraschetti  (p.  394). 
who  also  suggests  that  this  angel  on  the  right  is  not  by  Bernini,  but  “per- 
haps by  Paolo  Bernini,  touched  up  by  his  father.” 

I do  not  feel  tempted  to  agree  with  this  idea  of  Signor  Fraschetti ; there 
is  no  doubt  whatever  that  this  model  of  the  right-hand  angel  is  by  Gian 
Lorenzo  himself.  Height  13|  inches. 

No.  15.  — Plate  XXI 

Nude  figure  of  an  Angel  holding  the  Crown  of  Thorns.  The  head  and 
feet  are  gone.  The  weight  rests  on  the  right  leg. 

Sant’  Andrea  delle  Fratte,  Rome. 

Height  13|  inches. 

No.  16.  — Plate  XXII 

Angel  holding  the  Crown  of  Thorns. 

This  is  the  final  model  of  the  figure  in  Sant’  Andrea  delle  Fratte. 

The  action  of  the  legs  is  the  reverse  of  that  in  15.  Height  inches. 


No.  17.  — Plate  XXIII,  a 

Model  for  the  Angel  holding  the  Scroll.  The  tips  of  the  wings  are  missing. 
In  Sant’  Andrea  delle  Fratte. 

Height  Ilf  inches. 

No.  18.  — Plate  XIX,  b 

Another  model  for  the  same  figure  as  No.  17 ; lacks  the  right  leg,  the 
head  and  most  of  the  wings. 

Height  Ilf  inches. 

No.  19.  — Plate  XXIV,  a 

Angel,  perhaps  for  the  ecstasy  of  Saint  Theresa  in  Santa  Maria  della 
Vittoria,  Rome.  Right  hand  missing. 

Height  Ilf  inches. 

No.  20.  — Plate  XXIII,  b 

Angel,  draped,  right  leg  bare,  turning  to  the  left.  Part  of  right  wing 
missing. 

Height  Ilf  inches. 


Plate  XIX. 


Plate  XX. 


Plate  XXI 


Plate  XXII 


Plate  XXIII. 


Plate  XXIV. 


Plate  XX\ 


Plate  XXVI 


Plate  XXVII. 


BERNINI 


49 


No.  21.  — Plate  XXIV,  b 

Angel,  draped,  kneeling,  head  turned  to  right,  right  arm  (hand  missing) 
raised,  left  arm  with  open  hand  stretching  downwards  and  outwards. 

Height  Ilf  inches. 

No.  22.  — Plate  XXV 

Standing  male  figure,  in  high  relief.  Drapery  hangs  from  the  right 
shoulder,  leaving  torso  bare  but  covering  the  legs  with  heavy  folds.  The 
left  arm  hangs  down,  and  there  was  a palm  branch  in  the  now  missing 
hand.  The  right  arm  is  bent  up  with  the  hand  over  the  chin.  The  head 
bends  down  and  to  the  right.  The  figure  rests  its  weight  on  the  left  leg. 

The  right  side  of  the  plaque  is  curved ; the  left  side  is  straight,  and  on  it 
is  scratched  a scale  of  measurements. 

Height  16f  inches. 

No.  23.  — Plate  XXVI 

Oval  bas-relief  of  the  Virgin  seated  and  looking  down  to  right  while 
holding  the  Child  in  her  lap.  High  relief. 

Very  sketchy,  but  the  most  masterly  of  all  these  models. 

Height  11  inches. 

No.  24.  — Plate  XXVII,  b 

Draped,  standing  female  figure.  She  bends  forward,  turning  to  the 
left  with  arms  (right  arm  missing)  raised  to  support  a slab  that  rests  across 
her  shoulders.  The  weight  rests  on  the  left  leg.  At  her  feet  suggestion 
of  a cuirass. 

Study  for  the  base  of  some  monument  such  as  the  obelisk  in  the  Piazza 
della  Minerva.  (Cf.  Fraschetti,  pp.  300-303.) 

Height  inches. 

No.  25.  — Plate  XXVII,  a 

Standing  angel,  heavily  draped ; the  left  knee  is  bent  sharply  backwards. 
The  right  arm  is  bent  across  the  breast,  the  left  arm  (forearm  missing) 
bent  across  the  body  lower  down.  The  wings  are  missing. 

Height  8f  inches. 

No.  26 

The  Magdalen  kneeling,  and  grasping  the  foot  of  the  Cross. 

This  figure  is  not  by  Bernini,  and  shows  clearly  the  difference  between 
the  work  of  a master  and  that  of  an  imitator. 

Height  10  inches. 

No.  -27 

Study  of  a hand. 

Length  8 inches. 


t 


III.  BERNINI’S  DESIGNS  FOR  THE  PIAZZA  OF 

ST.  PETER’S 

The  pen  and  ink  sketches  by  Bernini  for  the  construction 
and  adornment  of  the  piazza  in  front  of  the  Vatican,  together 
with  the  surrounding  buildings,  deserve  to  be  more  widely 
known  than  they  are  at  present.1  Any  details  regarding  the 
history  and  growth  of  this  part  of  Rome  are  of  the  deepest 
interest  to  those  who  study  the  intellectual  development 
of  mankind.  Did  we  possess  any  record  of  the  reasons  why 
Pericles  and  his  advisers  placed  the  temples  and  other  build- 
ings on  the  Acropolis  of  Athens  just  as  they  did,  we  should 
have  a clearer  understanding  of  the  character  and  ideals  of 
Athens  than  we  now  have.  So  a study  of  these  drawings  by 
Bernini  will  show  very  distinctly  that  the  present  form  of 
the  piazza  is  due  to  no  mere  thoughtless  and  haphazard  erec- 
tion of  colonnades  and  fountains,  but  is  the  result  of  a deeply 
considered  plan  and  illustrative  of  a very  large  idea. 

The  drawings  are  carefully  done  with  pen  and  ink  on  four- 
teen sheets  of  paper  which  were  numbered  by  some  old-time 
owner.  These  sheets  have  had  the  edges  trimmed.  Ten  are, 
with  slight  variations,  14  by  6f  inches.  The  others  are,  as 
will  be  noted  later,  of  different  sizes.  All,  however,  judging 
by  the  paper  and  method  of  drawing,  belong  unquestionably 

1 They  were  exhibited  in  Rome  by  the  then  owner  Sig.  Andrea  Busiri-Vici  at  the 
Bernini  Exposition  in  1879  and  are  spoken  of  and  reproduced  in  small  form  by 
Fraschetti  in  his  book  on  Bernini. 


60 


11IAXX  a^'Vl 


* 


cr- 


co 


i 


Plate  XXIX. 


to 


Plate  XXX. 


BERNINI 


51 


to  the  same  series.  The  drawings  were  mounted  and  bound 
together  by  the  previous  owner. 

The  history  of  the  drawings  can  only  be  guessed  at.  In 
this  connection  the  following  facts  are  to  be  noted.  Bernini 
was  officially  appointed  architect  of  the  Fabbrica  of  St.  Peter’s 
in  1680.  After  him  Luigi  Vanvitelli  was  head  architect. 
With  Vanvitelli  there  worked  Andrea-Vici.  In  1817  Vici 
left  by  his  will  to  his  friend  the  sculptor  Canova  drawings  by 
Bernini  representing  the  burial  of  the  Countess  Matilda, 
and  Louis  XIV  on  horseback.  This  legacy  shows  Vici  to 
have  owned  original  drawings  by  Bernini,  and  it  is  not  im- 
probable they  had  been  given  him  by  Vanvitelli.  By  the 
same  will  Vici  left  to  his  grandson  Busiri  his  name  and  his 
studio,  with  all  the  original  drawings  by  various  masters 
therein  contained.  Consequently  it  is  not  a rash  hypothesis 
that  these  drawings  of  the  piazza  came  from  Vanvitelli  to 
Vici,  and  so  to  Busiri-Vici.  Finally  they  were  sold  at  auction 
in  Rome  in  1903.  They  are  now  in  the  Brandegee  Collection. 

DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  DRAWINGS 
No.  1.  — Plate  XXVIII 

This  drawing  shows  the  Orb ; the  Christian  symbol  of  the  world,  sur- 
mounted by  a cross. 

The  cross  with  the  head  and  arms  ending  in  curves  like  apses  suggests 
the  plan  of  a church,  and  the  following  drawings  show  clearly  that  the 
Orb  and  Cross  were  the  fundamental  idea  in  Bernini’s  mind  when  he 
planned  the  piazza. 

No.  2.  — Plate  XXVIII 

This  is  on  a square  piece  of  paper,  similar  in  size  to  No.  1,  and  at  present 
mounted  on  the  same  sheet  at  the  left  of  No.  1.  It  shows  the  figure  of 
a bearded  man  with  arms  outstretched  as  though  on  a cross.  A curved 
dotted  line  stretches  from  hand  to  hand  over  the  head  and  drops  about  an 
inch  perpendicularly  below  each  hand.  This  dotted  line  is  a suggestion  of 
the  existing  colonnades. 


52 


STUDIES 


That  the  figure  is  thought  of  as  being  on  a cross  is  borne  out  by  sketches 
that  follow  and  also  by  the  dot  in  the  palm  of  the  left  hand  which  possibly 
represents  a nail. 

The  sharp,  broken  lines  with  which  the  figure  is  drawn  are  characteristic 
of  Bernini. 

No.  3.  — Plate  XXIX 

An  outline  plan  of  the  church  with  the  colonnades  in  front.  It  is  to 
be  noted  the  latter  start  at  the  corners  of  the  fagade  of  the  church  and 
project  a short  distance  parallel  to  the  main  axis  before  curving  to  each 
side. 

Size  6-|  X 8f  inches. 

No.  4.  — Plate  XXIX 

Similar  to  No.  3,  but  in  greater  detail.  The  figure  of  a bearded  man 
represented  within  the  plan  of  the  church  in  the  attitude  of  crucifixion. 
In  the  left  arm  of  the  colonnade  is  drawn  the  sun  and  in  the  right  arm  the 
moon  and  stars. 

This  is  pasted  in  the  book  at  the  left  of  No.  3. 

Size  6f  x 8f  inches. 

No.  5.  — Plate  XXX 

This  shows  the  same  crucified  figure  as  before.  Over  the  head  and 
below  each  hand  is  the  dotted  line  seen  in  No.  2.  Behind  the  head  and 
arms  is  drawn  with  dots  the  elevation  of  St.  Peter’s,  the  Vatican  and  the 
colonnades. 

No.  6.  — Plate  XXX 

Similar  figure  to  the  preceding,  but  with  the  arms  contorted  so  as  to 
follow  the  straight  portion  of  the  colonnade  (shown  in  No.  3)  before  fol- 
lowing the  curve.  Behind  the  head  the  dotted  outline  of  St.  Peter’s  and 
behind  the  figure’s  left  arm  the  colonnade  and  Vatican  buildings  laid  in 
with  dots  and  a few  lines. 

No.  5 is  at  the  right  of  No.  6,  and  the  size  of  the  sheet  is  14  X 6f 
inches. 

It  should  be  noted  that  the  figure  is  so  placed  in  these  two  drawings 
that  the  dome  of  the  church  suggests  a bishop’s  mitre. 

No.  7.  — Plate  XXXI 

Outline  elevation  of  the  north  half  of  the  fagade  of  St.  Peter’s  and  the 
north  colonnade,  rising  behind  which  is  shown  the  Vatican  Palace. 

On  the  left  half  of  the  sheet  are  faint  pencil  lines  showing  the  south 
side  of  the  colonnade  and  fagade. 

The  sky  is  touched  in  with  bluish  white. 

Size  14|  X 6§  inches. 


?-S 


Cb 


Plate  XXXII. 


iiixxx 


Plate  XXXI V. 


Plate  XXXV. 


BERNINI 


53 


No.  8.  — Plate  XXXII 

Two  drawings  of  the  north  colonnade.  These  are  similar  to  the  pre- 
ceding, but  more  elaborate  (with  shadows  washed  in  in  gray),  as  shown 
by  dotted  lines  drawn  to  the  eyes  of  outlined  figures  from  various  points. 

We  find  here  the  architect’s  intention  regarding  the  view  from  different 
positions. 

Size  14f  X 6f  inches. 

On  the  back  of  the  sheet  is  a sketch  of  the  door  of  St.  Peter’s  with  the 
balcony  where  the  Pope  used  to  appear.  I do  not  feel  sure  that  this  is  by 
Bernini.  There  is  also  another  sheet  with  a more  detailed  drawing  of  this 
door. 

# 

No.  9.  — Plate  XXXIII 

Similar  to  No.  8,  but  still  more  elaborate  and  larger ; there  is  only  one 
drawing  on  the  sheet. 

In  this  design  Bernini  has  altered  the  line  of  the  colonnade.  Instead 
of  having,  as  in  the  preceding  drawing,  a straight  portion  projecting  from 
the  church,  he  has  here  drawn  the  colonnade  in  one  large  curve  from  the 
church  outwards,  putting  an  elaborate  entrance  to  the  Vatican  Palace 
near  the  church.  This  entrance  would  have  led  to  the  Cortile  di  San 
Damaso. 

Size  14  x 6f  inches. 

No.  10.  — Plate  XXXIV 

Slight  outline  sketch  of  the  outer  end  of  the  north  arm  of  the  colonnade, 
which  is  here  made  two-storied. 

Size  13|  X 6|  inches. 

No.  11. —Plate  XXXV 

Interior  of  inner  end  of  north  arm  of  colonnade,  showing  the  stairway 
as  it  exists  at  present.  Size  14f  x 6f  inches. 

No.  12.  — Plate  XXXVI 

Two  sketches;  one  showing  the  plan,  the  other  the  elevation,  of  the 
Cortile  di  San  Damaso. 

Size  13f  x 6|  inches. 

No.  13.  — Plate  XXXVII 

View  of  the  facade  of  St.  Peter’s  with  both  colonnades,  which  are  two- 
storied.  The  sky  is  touched  in  with  bluish  white. 

The  buildings  of  the  Vatican  are  also  shown,  — those  on  the  right  exist, 
those  on  the  left  are  imaginary. 

Size  14f  X 6f  inches. 


54 


STUDIES 


No.  14.  — Plate  XXXVIII 

View  looking  east  from  the  front  of  St.  Peter’s. 

On  each  side  are  the  ends  of  the  colonnades;  they  are  in  two  stories, 
that  on  the  right  crowned  with  low  clock-towers  similar  to  the  “asses’ 
ears”  once  placed  by  Bernini  on  the  Pantheon. 

Beyond  the  piazza  is  the  Borgo  much  reconstructed  and  made  sym- 
metrical. In  the  distance  the  Castel  Sant’  Angelo. 

Size  14|  x 6 1 inches. 

No.  15.  — Plate  XXXIX 

Two  sketches  in  pen,  washed  with  sepia,  of  the  Borgo,  looking  towards 
St.  Peter’s. 

These  show  different  methods  of  treating  the  north  arm  of  the  colonnade. 
The  one  on  the  right  shows  the  colonnade  closing  the  view  up  the  Borgo, 
the  other  shows  an  opening  carrying  the  eye  beyond  and  between  St.  Peter’s 
and  the  Vatican. 

Size  14f  x 6f  inches. 

The  buildings  shown  exist  in  much  the  same  form  to-day.  Even  the 
fountain  still  serves. 

No.  16.  — Plate  XL 

Plan  of  the  piazza  showing  how  it  was  intended  to  symbolize  the  orb 
of  the  ‘world  suggested  on  No.  1. 

In  this  sketch  we  see  the  circle  within  which  is  a dotted  square.  Within 
the  square  is  a figure  with  arms  and  legs  outstretched  along  the  diagonals. 
At  the  top  is  written  over  a faint  pencil  outline  of  the  church  (perhaps 
not  original)  San  Pietro.  At  the  bottom  is  written  twice  Piazza  Rusticucci 
and  on  a piece  of  paper  pasted  on  is  the  plan  of  a building  shown  in  No.  14, 
— one  of  the  buildings  intended  for  the  reconstructed  Borgo. 

On  the  right  and  left  of  the  figure  are  indicated  the  Porta  Angelica  and 
the  Porta  Cavalleggieri. 

The  dotted  square  within  the  circle  is  divided  into  quarters  in  which  is 
written  Asia,  Europa,  America,  Africa. 

Size  7|  X 8|  inches. 

These  are  the  plans  showing  Bernini’s  ideas  regarding  the  Piazza  of 
St.  Peter’s.  From  a study  of  them  we  see  how  the  circular  piazza  itself 
was  intended  to  represent  the  world  at  large,  while  the  colonnade  sym- 
bolized the  arms  of  the  Cross.  Crowning  all  was  the  great  Church,  founded 
by  Him  whose  arms  could  embrace  the  whole  earth,  and  from  whose  doors 
should  stream  to  every  quarter  the  promise  of  hope  and  love  for  which  He 
died. 


Plate  XXXYI. 


IIAXXX  ajYXI 


Plate  XXXVIII. 


Plate  XXXIX. 


San  Ji'etro 


Plate  XL. 


ASPECTS  OF  THE  ART  OF  SCULPTURE 


I.  THE  ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


All  students  have  noticed  the  similarity  in  style  between 
certain  Egyptian  portraits  and  other  works  by  ancient  Roman 
as  well  as  Florentine  artists,  and  the  resemblance  in  style  that 
exists  between  Greek  and  Venetian  portraits.  Also  there  is 
a marked  dissimilarity  between  the  Egyptian-Roman-Floren- 
tine  Group  on  the  one  hand  and  the  Greek- Venetian  Group 
on  the  other ; and  these  two  facts  suggest  the  conclusion  that 
the  art  of  portraiture  consists  in  something  more  than  the 
mere  photographic  imitation  in  stone,  or  with  paint,  of  the 
human  face  or  figure.  Were  such  imitation  the  essential 
factor  in  the  art  the  only  differences  in  portraits  of  different 
epochs  would  be  those  of  ethnographic  character.  The  special 
characteristics  of  portraiture  as  of  the  other  arts  at  any  given 
period  are  the  result  of  the  intellectual  and  material  condition 
of  the  people  to  whom  the  artist  belongs.  Style,  that  is  the 
distinguishing  quality  of  the  work  of  art,  the  quality  which 
differentiates  it  from  a work  of  another  period  or  race,  is  the 
result,  largely  unconscious,  of  the  relation  of  the  artist  to  life 
and  its  effect  upon  him.  The  material,  the  means  by  which  he 
gives  expression  to  his  endeavour  at  creation  or  representation, 
is  of  minor  importance. 

The  Sheik-el-Beled  (Plates  XLI,  XLII)  and  the  bust  of 
Scipio  so  called  (Plate  XLIII)  might  almost  be  portraits  of 
brothers  ; and  the  family  is  increased  by  a little  Egyptian  head 


67 


58  STUDIES 

in  the  museum  in  Venice,  and  by  some  of  the  men  immortalised 
by  Donatello.  So  too  Pericles  as  we  see  him  in  the  bust  by 
Kresilas  seems  separated  by  but  a narrow  margin  from  Gior- 
gione’s Knight  of  Malta.  And  yet  in  blood,  traditions,  cir- 
cumstances and  hopes  these  men  were  the  poles  asunder. 

How  then  is  this  likeness  of  certain  portraits  to  one  another 
to  be  explained  unless  by  the  existence  of  some  connection 
dependent  on  the  temper  of  the  artist  ? 

There  is  still  another  curious  likeness  and  another  difference 
to  be  noted  among  the  carved  and  painted  portraits  of  various 
epochs  and  schools.  While  the  head  of  Corbulo  is  unlike  that 
of  Pericles  in  the  aesthetic  impression  it  gives,  and  that  of 
Angelo  Doni  by  Raphael  also  is  aesthetically  unlike  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk  by  Titian,  still  the  carved  heads  have  a common 
bond  as  have  also  the  painted  ones.1  They  do  not  make  the 
two  broad  groups  into  which  I have,  for  the  sake  of  making 
plain  a general  idea,  divided  portraits  aesthetically  similar, 
but  they  make  plain  when  understood  that  painted  portraits 
are  necessarily  different  from  carved  ones  — different  in  more 
than  the  mere  fact  that  one  is  round  and  the  other  flat.  The 
difference  springs  deep  down  from  what  is  possible  to  attain 
by  either  art.  The  sculptor  of  the  Pericles  and  the  painter 
of  the  Norfolk  both  set  before  us  the  grave,  elegant  and 
stately  face  of  a bearded  man  in  middle  life.  Neither  artist 
distracts  our  attention  by  bravura  or  technique  or  by  realistic 
emphasis  of  detail.  Though  stylistically  similar,  these  works 
still  do  not  impress  our  minds  in  the  same  way.  The  follow- 
ing pages  will  be  clearer  if  I say  at  once  that  this  differing 

1 And  these  bonds  are  dependent,  I believe,  on  fundamental  laws  of  sculpture 
and  painting. 


Plate  XLI 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


59 


mental  impression  arises  because  in  busts  our  attention  is 
drawn  chiefly  to  the  mouth  while  in  painted  portraits  it  is 
turned  on  the  eyes.  This  is  due  to  the  special  laws  of  the 
technique  by  which  the  works  are  produced ; given  a painter 
and  sculptor  with  the  same  point  of  view  and  the  same  mental 
tendencies,  the  portraits  produced  by  them,  even  of  the  same 
person,  though  evidently  expressing  the  same  intellectual  quali- 
ties both  of  artist  and  of  sitter,  are  in  modes  of  expression 
and  certain  external  aspects  necessarily  unlike.  In  pursuing 
this  investigation  and  in  discussing  the  existence  and  nature 
of  the  various  laws  the  governance  of  which  I have  sug- 
gested, the  history  of  the  rise  and  spread  of  portraiture  must 
be  kept  in  mind. 

Before  the  intention  of  the  maker  of  portraits  can  be  com- 
prehended the  motives  that  lead  to  the  desire  of  the  public 
or  of  private  individuals  to  possess  such  work  must  be  under- 
stood. In  the  main  they  are  two,  — one  religious  and  one 
historic ; to  these  may  be  added  a third,  that  of  sentiment 
and  friendship.  The  religious  cause  is  best  illustrated  by 
Egyptian  statues,  of  which  a large  proportion  were  made 
to  be  placed  in  tombs.  These  are  the  earliest  portraits  of 
western  origin  which  exist  in  sufficient  numbers  to  afford  a 
sound  basis  of  criticism.  The  well-known  dependence,  in  that 
country,  of  these  works  on  religious  prescriptions  needs  hardly 
more  than  passing  mention.  That  the  soul  of  dead  mortals 
might,  returning  to  this  earth  and  to  the  tomb,  find  its  ac- 
customed corporeal  dwelling  place,  portrait  statues  of  the 
deceased  were  placed  in  the  sepulchral  chamber. 

Holding  this  belief,  it  was  only  natural  that  the  sculp- 
tors often  made  statues  life-size,  and  as  closely  resembling 


60 


STUDIES 


the  dead  original  as  possible,  in  order  that  the  soul  might 
find  a shelter  exactly  similar  to  its  original  living  one.  Had 
they  not  been  so  made,  the  soul  would  have  been  troubled  in 
its  search.  Work  such  as  this  was  of  course  expensive  and 
the  mass  of  the  people  had  to  content  themselves  with  smaller 
and  less  elaborate  figures  or  with  mere  glazed  figurines. 
But  the  more  rare  elaborate  works  show  the  ideal  and  serve 
as  a sure  guide  in  studying  the  conceptions  and  hopes  of  this 
or  any  people  — just  as  the  gold  treasure  from  Mycenae  is  of 
much  greater  value  than  all  the  terra-cotta  vases  in  showing 
the  life  and  thoughts  of  the  time. 

Other  portraits  of  Pharaohs  and  their  queens,  of  priests 
and  generals,  were  carved  on  temple  walls  or  set  up  to  com- 
memorate striking  events,  and  these  also  were  made  realistic 
because  of  the  egotistic  idea  that  called  them  into  being.  Un- 
less the  person  portrayed  was  carved  realistically  the  com- 
memorative value  of  the  monument  was  lessened.  These 
religious  and  commemorative  ideas  influenced  the  sculptors 
in  their  choice  of  material.  Both  the  desire  to  make  an  en- 
during image  of  the  dead  for  the  sake  of  the  soul  that  might 
return  and  the  wish  to  make  the  memory  of  the  person  as 
enduring  as  possible  led  the  sculptors  to  make  use  of  the  hard- 
est stones ; stones  such  as  do  not  lend  themselves  to  sculpture 
and  such  as  are  never  used  where  the  art  develops  in  accord- 
ance with  cultivated  taste  rather  than  special  demand.1  But 
though  exactness  of  likeness  was  tirelessly  sought  for  by  the 

1 It  is  true  that  wood  was  sometimes  made  use  of,  but  for  serious  work  only  in 
the  early  times  before  the  art  had  been  developed.  Nor  can  it  be  supposed  that 
the  lack  of  marble  in  Egypt  was  the  effective  cause  that  led  to  the  use  of  granites 
and  basalts.  The  Egyptians  were  energetic  traders  and  might  have  obtained 
marble  had  they  desired  it,  but  the  fact  is  they  preferred  the  harder  sorts  of  stone, 
though  alabaster  was  sometimes  used. 


Plate  XLII 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


61 


Egyptians  (I  refer  of  course  to  the  earlier  epochs  before  the 
influx  of  Greek  or  Roman  ideas),  it  was  not  attained  with  the 
same  success  as  in  later  days  by  the  Romans  and  Florentines. 

This  failure  was  in  part  due  to  the  use  of  unyielding  material, 
such  as  granite  and  basalt.  Successful  representation,  in 
such  stone,  of  the  finer  details  of  facial  form,  was  practically 
impossible,  and  furthermore,  owing  to  the  dark  and  variegated 
colour  of  these  stones,  would  have  been  scarcely  noticeable 
could  it  have  been  attained.  Hence  the  sculptors  were  led  to 
practise  a certain  broadness  of  treatment  that  makes  their 
work  seem,  to  careless  observation,  like  the  Greek ; but 
though  one  of  the  chief  charms  of  Greek  work  is  broadness,  it  is 
the  outcome  of  very  different  causes  and,  if  carefully  studied, 
is  seen  to  produce  a very  different  effect- from  that  of  Egyptian 
work.1 

Any  phenomenon  is  due  to  mixed  causes,  and  it  must 
not  be  supposed  that  the  use  of  hard  materials  alone  led  to 
breadth  of  treatment.  The  conventional  position  of  the 
figures  in  Egyptian  art  (due  in  large  measure  to  various  non- 
sesthetic  causes)  was  suited  better  by  a broad  and  convention- 
alised treatment  of  the  face  than  by  more  particular  niceness 
* 

in  the  rendering  of  its  detail.2  Religious  feeling  led  to  the 
placing  of  quietly  posed  statues  in  the  tombs,  and  as  regards 

1 That  there  may  be  no  misunderstanding  of  the  terms  employed,  I will  say  that 
by  breadth  of  treatment  I mean  that  the  sculptor  or  painter  leaves  the  various 
surfaces  of  the  object  reproduced  by  him  in  large  measure  unbroken  by  small  lights 
and  shades  which,  however  true  to  nature,  are  apt  in  art  to  distract  the  attention 
from  the  general  effect.  Though  small  differences  are  disregarded  there  may  be, 
as  Greek  work  shows,  exquisite  modulation  of  surface. 

2 1 refer  of  course  to  statues  in  the  round.  The  bas-reliefs  show  much  free  action 
due  partly  to  the  technique,  partly  to  their  being  in  softer  stone  and  partly  to  the 
fact  that  the  figures  in  them  are  illustrations  to  historic  chronicles  and  not  primarily 
portraits.  So  too  figures  and  groups  in  wood,  faience  or  metal  are  freer. 


62 


STUDIES 


the  figures  of  the  great  rulers  whose  word  was  law,  attitudes 
expressive  of  the  calm  that  results  from  absolute  power  were 
best  fitted  to  express  the  current  beliefs.  These  attitudes  were 
also  restrained  in  consequence  of  the  refractory  nature  of  the 
stones  used. 

It  is  interesting  to  consider  what  would  have  been  the  devel- 
opment of  sculpture  in  Egypt  had  the  art  been  freed  from  the 
necessity  of  conforming  to  the  demands  of  religion  and  con- 
temporary history.  One  searches  in  vain  among  the  masses  of 
Egyptian  sculpture  for  the  expression  of  the  individual  sculptor’s 
emotions.  We  do  not  even  know  the  names  of  the  sculptors. 
They  were  not  noted  by  their  contemporaries  nor  did  interest 
in  their  work  lead  them  to  sign  it.  Sculpture  in  that  antique 
land  was  not  a fine  art  in  the  sense  of  being  chosen  by  men  of 
special  tastes  and  feeling  to  express  the  enjoyment  felt  by 
them  in  certain  forms.  It  was  a highly  developed  handicraft, 
a technique  pursued  by  rule.  As  illustrative  of  the  character, 
the  life  and  the  thought  of  the  people  portrayed  it  is  allied  to 
Roman  work  rather  than  to  Greek. 

Religion  is  seen  to  influence  portraiture  in  another  way. 
Many  pictures,  the  subjects  of  which  are  religious,  by  Botti- 
celli, Ghirlandaio  and  others,  are  filled  with  portraits,  but  these 
are  essential  to  the  composition,  and  are  thought  of  as  figures 
first,  as  portraits  afterwards.  But  there  are  many  sacred 
pictures  of  the  Renaissance  in  which,  with  varying  degrees 
of  simplicity  and  frankness,  a portrait  of  the  donor  of  the 
painting  is  inserted  not  as  an  essential  part  of  the  composition 
but  because  of  the  desire  of  the  donor  to  secure  lasting  recog- 
nition of  the  fact  that  he  had  fulfilled  his  religious  vows  and 
duties.  It  was  an  accepted  proof  of  respectability  in  this 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


63 


world  and  might  possibly  help  in  the  next.  Neither  in  Egypt 
nor  in  this  class  of  pictures  of  the  Renaissance  are  the  works 
thought  of  primarily  from  the  point  of  view  of  being  artistic 
reproductions  of  the  human  face,  but  they  are  means  to  an  end. 
They  are  in  fact  symbols.  Work  of  this  sort  is  so  rare  in 
Greek  or  Roman  art  that  it  may  be  considered  as  practically 
non-existent.1 

The  personal  portrait,  the  portrait  made  for  the  sake  of 
gratifying  the  self-esteem  of  the  person  represented,  is  well 
exhibited  in  Egyptian  work  in  the  bas-reliefs  illustrating  the 
conquests  of  the  Pharaohs  and  in  the  colossal  statues  erected 
in  a spirit  of  pride  and  self-glorification  such  as  was  exhibited 
again  by  the  Romans.  Such  portraits  as  these  are  a certain 
indication  of  the  all  but  universal  desire  for  glory  and  fame. 
They  are  an  expression  of  the  same  confident  spirit  that  leads 
the  owners  of  great  buildings  to  carve  their  names  over  the 
entrance  and  are  produced  in  large  numbers  only  during  pe- 
riods when  individuals  seek  eagerly  for  personal  recognition. 

Such  periods  occur  when  large  stores  of  money  are  possessed 
by  private  persons ; then  religious  beliefs  grow  faint,  in  men’s 
if  not  in  women’s2  minds,  and  the  quiet  and  enduring  appreci- 
ation of  a few  objects  gives  way  to  the  excited  pursuit  of  con- 
stant novelty  in  enjoyment.  Consequently  instead  of  being 
content  with  philosophic  moderation  men  attribute  an  untrue 
value  to  mere  possession,  and,  since  money  can  buy  many 

1 The  bas-relief  of  the  potter  in  the  Acropolis  Museum  in  Athens  belongs  to  this 
class. 

2 Though  no  woman  has  ever  reached  the  highest  rank  in  any  art,  her  influence 
has  been  enormous.  It  is  a subject  to  be  studied  by  itself,  but  it  must  be  constantly 
kept  in  mind  that  no  people  who  have  regarded  woman  from  any  but  the  highest 
point  of  view  has  ever  produced  the  noblest  art.  It  may  be  a fallacy  to  regard  her 
so,  but  it  is  the  most  powerful  and  helpful  ideal  the  western  mind  has  yet  conceived. 


64 


STUDIES 


material  things,  come  to  the  false  conclusion  that  he  who 
has  the  most  is  to  be  ranked  among  the  world’s  greatest 
sons. 

But  the  qualities  needful  for  amassing  riches  are  by  no  means 
rare  and  in  the  main  are  correlated  with  lack  of  interest  in  the 
Past  and  with  undeveloped  imagination.  Hence  ignorant 
of,  or  at  least  not  sympathetic  with,  the  more  subtle  but  more 
effective  types  of  men  who  work  not  with  money  but  writh 
personal  character,  the  wealthy  naturally  come  to  think  of 
themselves  as  individually  interesting  and  important,  and  in 
consequence  their  portraits  are  made  in  every  shape  and  size. 
Such  works  cannot,  as  regards  the  person  portrayed,  be  of 
much  interest,  and  are  usually  ugly,  because  the  lives  and  occu- 
pations of  people  invariably  affect  the  forms  and  expressions 
of  their  faces.  The  exceptions  to  this  rule  are  the  portraits 
of  such  men  as  Lorenzo  dei  Medici,  or  others  of  our  own  day 
who  use  their  inherited  or  acquired  wealth  in  the  patronage  of 
the  arts  and  sciences  — who  use  their  powers  indirectly  for 
the  cultivation  of  ideals. 

Such  portraits  as  these  are  of  varying  character.  They  may 
be  public,  put  up,  that  is,  by  a grateful  and  flattering  people 
to  commemorate  a ruler  or  chief  citizen,  as  in  the  case  of 
Gattamalata  in  Padua  and  Colleone  in  Venice ; or  they  may 
be  of  purely  private  interest  and  intended  only  for  the  eyes  of 
the  successive  generations  of  the  family  to  which  the  person 
depicted  belongs.  But  public  or  private,  in  the  one  case  as 
in  the  other,  the  desire  for  them  being  due  to  personal  regard 
and  love  of  fame,  an  accuracy  in  the  reproduction  of  fea- 
ture is  sought  that  distinguishes  them  clearly  from  portraits 
made  with  other  less  worldly  motives. 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


65 


It  is  known  of  course  that  this  desire  for  fame  stirred  the 
hearts  of  oriental  potentates  long  centuries  before  the  begin- 
ning of  connected  history.  But  in  that  classic  part  of  the 
ancient  world  with  which  we  are  intimately  related,  it  does  not 
become  specially  noticeable  till  the  time  of  Alexander.  It 
was  an  active  factor  in  life  during  the  existence  of  the  Roman 
world,  and  again  in  the  Renaissance.  One  of  the  phenomena 
most  indicative  of  this  aspiration  is  the  character  of  the  monu- 
ments placed  on  graves,  and  particularly  the  inscriptions  on 
such  stones.  On  the  Greek  grave  stones  we  find  often  enough 
the  name  of  the  deceased  but  rarely  if  ever  any  intimate  notice 
of  his  life.  On  Roman  and  Renaissance  monuments,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  length  of  life,  and  the  honorific  offices  held,  are 
all  given  with  wearisomely  full  detail. 

Portraits  made  for  friendship’s  sake  are  uncommon  and  do 
not,  I believe,  occur  before  the  time  of  the  Renaissance. 
Then  one  hears  of  friends  sending  their  portraits  to  one  an- 
other. In  Rome  a somewhat  similar  custom  was  practised  to 
a certain  extent,  as  is  shown  by  the  portraits  on  rings  and 
cameos.  Such  work,  meant  as  it  was  for  personal  adornment, 
must  have  been,  at  least  in  part,  inspired  by  the  tender  regard 
of  friend  for  friend.  But  it  seems  not  to  have  been  a common 
custom  in  the  ancient  world ; just  why  it  would  be  hard  to 
tell,  for  no  more  inviolable  friendships  have  ever  been  known 
than  those  told  of  in  ancient  history  and  drama,  nor  more 
tender  feeling  than  is  expressed  in  many  of  the  inscriptions 
on  ancient  tombstones.  Perhaps  it  was  that  the  house 
architecture  of  those  days  was  but  little  adapted  to  the  dis- 
playing of  such  objects,  and  the  collection  by  private  individ- 
uals of  things  was  but  little  practised  except  in  Rome,  and 


66 


STUDIES 


even  there  collectors  were  comparatively  few.  However 
this  may  be,  the  fact  remains  that  the  portraits  of  the 
ancient  world  were  in  the  main  religious  or  commemorative, 
and  the  idea  of  friendship  being  maintained  or  strengthened 
by  the  possession  of  the  dumb  semblance  of  absent  dear 
ones  seems  to  have  grown  and  spread  with  the  Christian 
religion. 

At  first  sight  it  appears  as  if  there  were  three  ways  of  making 
portraits  — the  sculptor’s,  the  painter’s,  and  the  writer’s. 
It  is  not  however  in  any  true  sense  a portrait  that  a writer 
sets  before  us.  This  is  beyond  his  power  to  accomplish.  He 
is  unable,  that  is,  to  give  various  readers  such  impression  of 
the  look  and  carriage  of  the  person  described  that  they  can  in- 
evitably recognise  him  in  the  passing  crowd.  Continuous 
and  sequent  events  may  be  described  by  words,  but  they  can- 
not show  instantaneously  isolated  images.  Masters  of  style 
can  call  up  visions  to  the  mind  by  well-selected  epithets,  but 
such  visions  are  typical  rather  than  actual;  and  they  are 
of  scenes  of  considerable  scope,  or  of  actions  of  dramatic 
quality,  rather  than  accurate  images  of  facial  form  and  ex- 
pression such  as.  in  the  only  true  sense  of  the  word,  can  be 
called  portraits. 

So  far  as  art  in  the"  sense  of  reproduction  is  concerned,  it  is 
evident  that  language  can  be  used  for  description,  for  sugges- 
tions of  moods  and  general  conditions,  but  not  for  showing 
in  a sharp  and  quickly  defined  manner  a given  scene  or  object 
at  a given  moment.  When  Shelley  speaks  of 

The  obscene  ravens,  clamorous  o’er  the  dead ; 

The  vultures  to  the  conqueror’s  banner  true 
Who  feed  where  Desolation  first  has  fed, 

A.nd  whose  wings  rain  contagion,  — 


Plate  XLIV, 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


67 


he  calls  to  mind  most  vividly  conditions  consequent  on  war, 
but  before  no  two  readers  of  the  lines  will  the  same  visions 
rise.  To  see  such  horrors  as  Shelley  writes  of,  presented  so 
that  all  beholders  will  regard  them  in  the  same  way,  we  must 
turn  to  such  a work  as  Turner’s  Rizpah.1 

The  Greeks,  it  is  interesting  to  note  in  this  connection,  rec- 
ognised this  limitation  of  the  power  of  words  and  rarely  tried 
to  delineate  the  actors  in  their  poetry  and  drama  by  other 
means  than  the  description  of  traits  of  character.  It  may  be 
said  that  the  Greeks  also  did  not  attempt  landscape  in  their 
writing.  True,  but  we  have  every  reason  to  know  that  the 
Greek  mind  was  not  interested  seriously  in  beauties  of  land- 
scape, while  we  know  that  it  was  deeply  concerned  with  the 
characters  and  actions  of  individuals.  Landscape  was  not 
studied  by  the  Greeks  as  an  end  in  itself,  whereas  portraiture 
was.  Hence  the  absence  of  an  attempt  at  portraiture  in  their 
literature  by  other  means  than  description  of  character  is  the 
natural  result  of  their  mental  tendencies.  Such  description 
can  of  course  be  accomplished  by  language  with  greater  cer- 
tainty than  by  sculpture  or  painting.  It  can  give  such  an 
impression  of  the  nature  of  a person  that  there  is  no  more 
room  for  doubt  concerning  the  qualities  that  constitute  that 
nature  than  there  is  concerning  the  colour  of  eyes  that  have 
been  put  on  canvas  by  some  painter.  Take  any  example 
and  it  will  appear  that  when  an  author  tries  to  stir  the  imag- 
ination to  form  an  image  of  a character,  he  does  it  mainly  by 
describing  carefully  his  nature  rather  than  his  personal  ap- 

1 When  kept  to  its  true  course,  the  magnificent  effects  attained  by  language  in 
perpetuating  landscape  are  splendidly  seen  in  Ruskin,  when,  for  example,  he  de- 
scribes the  Roman  Campagna  (Preface  to  2d  ed.,  Modem  Painters ) or  Verona 
(. Joy  Forever,  sec.  76  ff.). 


68 


STUDIES 


pearance,  and  when  he  attempts  to  do  more  than  this,  he  sug- 
gests inevitably  a different  vision  to  every  reader.  Shake- 
speare’s sonnets  are  sufficient  evidence  of  the  truth  of  these 
statements. 

I should  not  wish  to  imply  that  writers,  even  the  greatest  of 
them,  do  not  sometimes  attempt  to  depict  persons  by  elaborate 
descriptions,  but  a comparison  of  any  two  illustrated  editions 
. of  an  author  will  show  my  contention  to  be  correct.  The  in- 
efficiency of  the  means  and  the  inadequacy  of  the  result  has 
been  recognised  by  the  masters  of  literature.  And  it  needs 
but  to  compare  a word  portrait  with  a painted  one  of  the  same 
person  to  be  convinced  of  the  painter’s  greater  power  in  this 
work.  Take  Shelley’s  lines  describing  the  crazed  musician  : 

There  the  poor  wretch  was  sitting  mournfully 
Near  a piano,  his  pale  fingers  twined 
One  with  the  other,  and  the  ooze  and  wind 
Rushed  through  an  open  casement,  and  did  sway 
His  hair,  and  starred  it  with  the  brackish  spray ; 

His  head  was  leaning  on  a music  book, 

And  he  was  muttering,  and  his  lean  limbs  shook ; 

His  lips  were  pressed  against  a folded  leaf 
In  hue  too  beautiful  for  health,  and  grief 
Smiled  in  their  motions  as  they  lay  apart  — 

As  one  who  wrought  from  his  own  fervid  heart 

The  eloquence  of  passion,  soon  he  raised 

His  sad  meek  face  and  eyes  lustrous  and  glazed 

And  spoke  — sometimes  as  one  who  wrote  and  thought 

His  words  might  move  some  heart  that  heeded  not 

If  sent  to  distant  lands.  — 

As  a portrait  the  failure  of  these  verses  lies  in  the  fact  that 
the  attention  of  the  reader  is  hurried  on  from  point  to  point 
like  a storm-driven  bird  and  never  allowed  to  rest.  Look,  for 
half  the  time  it  takes  to  read  the  lines,  at  Titian’s  Concert,  and 
you  have  a much  more  definite  image  of  a musician.  It  is 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


69 


just  because  of  this  unrest  of  the  attention,  due  to  continued 
introduction  of  some  new  feature  of  importance,  that  poets 
and  writers  of  prose  are  much  more  successful  when  they  en- 
deavour to  reproduce  a landscape,  for  it  is  a natural  tendency, 
as  we  look  at  any  scene  of  nature,  for  the  eyes  to  wander  over 
the  hills  and  far  away.  They  cannot  seize  the  essential 
points  instantaneously  and  they  cannot  apprehend  the  interre- 
lation of  the  details  as  when  they  look  at  a person’s  face  and 
figure. 

Sometimes  the  poet  — it  is  generally  a poet,  for  the  epithets 
that  poets  use  are  apt  to  be  more  carefully  chosen  and  so 
have  greater  graphic  force  than  those  of  prose  writers  — seems 
to  succeed  in  portraiture,  but  if  you  will  consider  closely,  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  success  is  fictitious.  It  is  due  to  our 
having  a ready-formed  picture  of  the  character  of  the  person 
described  which  is  suited  by  the  poet’s  words,  as  in  Browning’s 

lines  . yqu  ^now  we  prench  stormed  Ratisbon, 

A mile  or  so  away 
On  a little  mound  Napoleon  stood 
On  our  storming  day 
With  neck  outthrust,  you  fancy  how, 

Legs  wide,  arms  locked  behind, 

As  if  to  balance  the  prone  brow 
Oppressive  with  its  mind. 

But  to  one  who  had  never  seen  a picture  of  Napoleon  what 
image  would  these  lines  give  ? Or,  take  Lowell’s  lines  on 
Lincoln.  Not  a word  in  them  concerning  the  outward  ap- 
pearance of  the  Martyr  Chief ; but  the  attempt,  successful  to 
the  uttermost,  is  made  to  impress  on  the  reader’s  mind  what 
there  was  of  him  to  think  of,  not  to  look  at : 

Wise,  steadfast  in  the  strength  of  God  and  true. 


70 


STUDIES 


These  epithets  offer  no  suggestion  that  can  be  visualised,  nor 
is  there  when  we  note 

. . . that  sure  mind’s  unfaltering  skill 

And  supple  tempered  will 

That  bent  like  perfect  steel  to  spring  again  and  thrust,  j 

And  then  finally,  to  sum  up: 

Here  was  a type  of  the  true  elder  race, 

And  one  of  Plutarch’s  men  talked  with  us  face  to  face. 

Vivid  and  eloquent  as  all  this  is,  it  offers  no  picture  of  the  tall, 
gaunt  President.  It  is  but  a suggestion  of  mental  conditions. 
It  does  not  show  the  deep-set  eyes,  sorrowful  with  the  sorrows 
of  two  races,  or  the  firm  mouth  lined  with  the  humour  that 
helped  him  to  bear  his  burden  of  care.  Plutarch  himself  does 
not  show  us  Caesar,  or  Pericles,  or  Demosthenes  or  any  other 
worthy,  as  the  sculptors  do. 

Possibly  it  might  be  suggested  that  in  such  poems  as  those 
quoted  the  writer  had  no  intention  of  giving  a suggestion  of 
the  outer  husk  that  hides  the  inner  man ; but  there  is  one  class 
of  poems  — the  love  lyrics  — in  which  the  passion-driven  bard 
would  surely,  could  it  be  accomplished,  give  the  immortality 
of  portraiture  to  the  beloved.  But  those  “ dear  dead  women,” 
the  ever-renewing  Spring  brood  of  Sappho,  Chloris,  Lesbia, 
Lalage  and  Doris,  are  but  the  vague  dwellers  of  dreamland. 
Sometimes  they  are  dark  and  sometimes  fair ; they  have  cheeks 
that  shame  the  rose,  and  eyes  whose  glance  overwhelms  as 
does  the  bolt  of  Jove;  their  brows  are  white  as  driven  snow, 
and  a nest  for  little  loves  is  in  their  bosom  - — but  can  we  ever 
be  sure  that  we  recognise  from  such  description  each  particu- 
lar Lesbia  as,  waiting  and  watching  at  the  corner,  we  hope- 
fully murmur  “She  comes,  she’s  here,  she’s  past”?  Such 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


71 


words  as  these  form  a portrait  only  for  that  one  love-stung 
heart  that  beats  the  overtone  to  the  note  of  Lesbia’s 
footfall. 

No,  the  writer  cannot,  in  any  adequate  sense,  place  before 
us  portraits. 

Literature  being  excluded  as  a means  of  portraiture,  it 
remains  to  consider  sculpture  and  painting.  In  order  to 
understand  why  painted  and  carved  portraits  showing  similar 
types  with  equal  distinctness  and  emphasis  produce  very 
different  effects  on  the  observer  and  hold  his  attention  in 
different  ways,  study  must  be  made  of  the  different  results 
possible  to  attain  by  these  arts.  If  these  general  propositions 
in  regard  to  the  two  arts  be  true,  the  demands  and  character- 
istics of  portraiture  will  become  plainer. 

The  fundamental  distinction  between  sculpture  and  painting 
lies  in  the  fact  that  the  former  concerns  itself  not  always,  but 
primarily,  with  light  and  shadow  and  fully  modelled  forms,  while 
the  latter  deals  chiefly  with  colour.  Furthermore,  painting 
works  in  two  dimensions,  while  sculpture  exercises  herself 
with  three.  Hence,  figures  in  positions  that  are  much  con- 
torted or  groups  that  are  complexly  organised  in  retreating 
planes  are  unsuitable  subjects  for  a painter,  inasmuch  as  he 
cannot  represent  them  clearly  except  at  the  expense  of  in- 
finite labour.  If  the  sculptor,  on  the  other  hand,  chooses 
such  subjects,  he  is  not  hampered  by  the  difficulties  that 
block  the  painter’s  path.  His  finished  work  can  be  looked  at 
from  all  sides,  and  he  is  not  liable  to  the  painter’s  risk  that  his 
final  effect  may,  perhaps,  be  ruined  by  a misuse  of  light  and 
shade  or  by  faulty  drawing  and  perspective. 

The  advantage,  however,  is  not  altogether  on  one  side.  The 


72 


STUDIES 


sculptor  has  this  other  difficulty  to  contend  with,  that  the 
appearance  of  his  work  will  change  with  every  change  of  light. 
The  painter  can  fix  whatever  light  he  pleases  on  his  canvas. 
As  the  appearance  of  the  sculptured  work  will  vary  with  the 
light,  the  sculptor  can  attain  but  partial  success  in  the  rep- 
resentation of  figures  or  scenes  in  which  much  active  emotion 
is  shown  in  the  faces.  But  in  such  scenes  as  these  a painter’s 
power  can  well  be  shown,  since,  owing  to  his  ability  to  paint 
any  power  of  light  (except,  of  course,  direct  sunlight),  and  his 
power  of  placing  the  various  figures  of  a group  in  various 
lights,  and  by  means  of  varied  tints  and  lights  being  able  to 
bring  sharply  into  notice  any  expression  of  the  face,  he  can 
well  depict  most  violent  emotion.  It  will  be  found,  I think, 
that  the  sculpture  which  is  most  successful  deals  with  groups 
or  figures  whose  meaning  is  made  clear  by  action  and  by  the 
form  of  the  body  as  a whole,  and  the  paintings  that  are  most 
successful  are  those  in  which  effects  of  chiaroscuro,  colour  and 
facial  expression  are  the  most  satisfactory  method  for  making 
the  figure  intelligible.  Several  facts  which  will  be  readily 
acknowledged  show  the  truth  of  this  statement.  For  instance, 
Veronese,  Rubens,  Tintoretto,  Velasquez  when  painting  scenes 
the  interest  of  which  depends  on  the  individual  figures  ap- 
pearing in  them  (not  such  scenes  as  Paradise,  Hell  or  battles 
where  the  interest  is  in  the  masses  and  spaces),  compose  them 
mainly  in  one  plane.  Also  if  single  heads  be  taken  from  pic- 
tures and  from  sculptured  groups,  it  will  usually  be  found  that 
the  former  give  a fuller  impression  of  the  artist’s  intention 
than  the  latter. 

Every  rule  has  exceptions  and  among  Michael  Angelo’s 
sculptures  are  works  in  which  he  sought  to  reproduce  effects 


Plate  XLV. 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


73 


of  light  and  shade  and  expression  that  if  given  by  painting 
would  have  been  more  successful  because  the  latter  would 
have  expressed  the  artist’s  intention  more  clearly ; and  in 
certain  of  his  paintings  he  attempted  effects  of  form  that 
could  be  given  more  satisfactorily  by  sculpture.  Done  by  any 
less  a genius  than  Michael  Angelo,  such  work  would  be  either 
ineffective  or  laboured.  Done  by  him  one  can  but  marvel 
at  his  mastery  over  the  sister  arts  that  enabled  him  to  approach 
so  closely  to  the  effects  proper  to  the  one  while  using  the  means 
offered  by  the  other.  But  such  success  as  he  attained  does  not 
prove  soundness  in  the  principles  that  led  him  to  make  the 
attempt.  A tour  de  force  is  but  the  attempt  to  attain  a result 
by  means  other  than  the  best.  It  may  be  successful,  but  it 
must  be  unsatisfactory.  It  is  unreal,  impractical ; it  is  a 
form  of  jugglery  ! 

To  see  how  similar  scenes  are  treated  in  the  two  arts,  com- 
pare the  group  of  Niobe  and  her  Children  with  the  Massacre 
of  the  Innocents  as  painted  by  the  Renaissance  artists.1  In 
such  comparison  trivial  details  must  not  be  too  much  regarded, 
for  of  the  Niobe  group  there  consists  but  one  incomplete  set 
of  copies  of  the  original  figures  and  of  the  Massacre  of  the 
Innocents  each  one  of  us  probably  considers  a different  artist’s 
conception  of  the  scene  most  effective.  But  the  general 
impression  given  by  Niobe  and  her  children  is  that  of  bodies 
driven  into  violent  motion  by  fright,  what  might  be  called 
frightened  motion ; the  figures  are  rushing  from  one  spot  to 
another  in  search  of  safety ; they  bend  and  cower  in  terror  of 

1 In  speaking  of  Niobe  I refer  naturally  to  the  group  in  Florence  and  not  to  the 
less  well  known  and  understood  earlier  groups  at  St.  Petersburg  and  elsewhere ; 
typical  examples  of  the  massacre  are  those  by  Matteo  di  Giovanni,  in  the  church 
of  the  Servi  at  Siena,  and  by  Fra  Angelico  in  the  Academy  at  Florence. 


74 


STUDIES 


the  peril.  They  are  the  incarnation  of  dread  of  physical 
suffering.  The  impression  of  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents 
is  one  of  faces  contorted  by  horror.  The  action  of  the  bodies 
is  of  less  concern.  The  attention  is  drawn  to  the  eyes,  the 
mouths,  the  hands,  the  three  chief  outlets  of  mental  feeling. 
The  sufferers  in  the  scene  are  moved  by  the  horror  of  unjusti- 
fiable slaughter.  They  are  the  incarnation  of  anger,  revolt 
and  despair  induced  by  the  sight  of  pitiless  massacre. 

In  portraiture  the  painter  and  sculptor  are  drawn  together 
because  the  greatest  interest  of  the  work  is  centred  in  the 
face,  which  is  the  clearest  index  of  thoughts  and  emotions. 
Both  sculptors  and  painters  even  when  making  figures  of  life 
size  are  limited  in  portraiture  to  seeking  their  chief  effects  in 
the  treatment  of  the  face.  But  though  so  far  working  in 
common,  the  painter  and  sculptor  still  have  different  aims ; 
for  that  part  of  the  head  the  expression  of  which  can  be  more 
strongly  accented  and  more  completely  reproduced  by  the 
use  of  colour  and  a chosen  shade  and  light,  is  the  eyes ; while 
that  part  the  expression  of  which  can  be  most  adequately 
rendered  by  modelling  is  the  mouth.  This  is  the  reason  why 
portraits  similar  in  style,  such  as  those  above  mentioned,  the 
bust  of  Pericles,  and  the  painting  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
attract  our  attention  in  different  ways.  In  the  bust  the  most 
noticeable  feature  is  the  firm  but  sensitive  mouth,  in  the  paint- 
ing it  is  the  steady,  but  vivid,  eye. 

Mindful  of  these  conditions  that  govern  the  art  of  portrait- 
ure we  find  it  easy  to  see  how  the  artists  of  various  epochs 
have  conformed  to  them.  This  may  seem  to  be  putting  the 
cart  before  the  horse ; to  be  fitting  the  facts  to  the  theory. 
But  it  is  not  so,  — it  is  merely  searching  for  proof  of  a work- 


Plate  XL VI 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


75 


ing  hypothesis.  The  theory  was  suggested  by  the  phenomena 
and  it  will  be  seen  to  explain  these  phenomena. 

The  study  of  Greek  sculpture  is  at  present  seriously  ham- 
pered by  statements  and  beliefs  concerning  it  which  arose 
at  a time  when  its  place  in  the  history  of  art  was  very  inac- 
curately understood.  These  have  been  repeated  so  often  that 
they  are  frequently  accepted  without  being  critically  weighed 
in  the  light  of  recent  knowledge.  It  is  a unique  and  very 
perfect  art,  but  the  causes  and  qualities  of  its  perfection  are 
sometimes  misunderstood.  Justifiable  admiration  has  out- 
weighed the  critical  faculties.  It  is  generally  thought  to  be 
more  imaginative  and  ideal  than  is  in  fact  the  case.  The 
quality  of  realism  is  not  usually  attributed  to  such  a work  as 
the  portrait  bust  of  Pericles.  And  yet  this  bust  is  quite  as 
realistic,  though  not  so  prosaic,  as  that  of  the  Roman  general 
Corbulo.  I mention  these  two  because  they  are  very  generally 
known;  but  many  others  such  as  the  Demosthenes,  Sophocles, 
Csesar,  Caligula  would  do  equally  well.  The  word  realism  is 
reserved  too  much  for  those  works  in  which  the  artist  has 
represented  the  forms  that  would  be  first  noticed  by  the  casual 
observer  and,  in  this  limited  sense,  the  Corbulo  is  far  more 
realistic  than  the  Pericles ; but  realism  is  just  as  truly  dis- 
played in  works  in  which  the  forms,  while  reproducing  those  of 
the  model,  may  perhaps  not  be  the  most  obvious  ones  and 
though  the  juxtaposition  of  them  be  not  their  most  common 
combination.  In  this  sense  the  Pericles  is  as  realistic  as  the 
Corbulo.  Greek  realism  in  portraits  deals  chiefly  with  faces 
and  figures  in  repose ; Roman  realism  deals  in  the  main  with 
faces  and  figures  in  action. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  portraiture  was  a late  development  of 


76 


STUDIES 


sculpture  in  Greece.  We  know,  for  instance,  of  no  contem- 
porary portraits  of  Solon  or  Peisistratus,  and  there  exist  in 
museums  and  private  collections  extremely  few  busts  or  stat- 
ues of  the  period  preceding  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century 
b.c.,  that  have  the  character  of  portraits.  One  reason  of  this 
doubtless  was  the  feeling  that  the  success  which  brought  fame 
in  its  train  was  due  more  to  the  Gods  than  to  the  individual. 
The  individual  was  an  accident  in  the  exhibition  of  beneficent 
power  by  the  Gods,  and  consequently,  so  far  as  form  and  fea- 
ture are  concerned,  was  of  no  special  interest.  Furthermore, 
there  was  the  feeling  that  the  fame  of  individuals  was  due  to 
and  a part  of  the  fame  of  the  whole  state ; hence  the  individual 
was  not  apt  to  overestimate  his  own  value  nor  to  be  thought  of 
by  his  neighbours  with  any  such  feeling  of  special  respect  as  is 
expected  by,  and  often  granted  to,  those  who  are  “self-made.” 
Over  and  above  these  causes  was  another  which  must 
have  been  largely  responsible  for  the  late  development  of 
portraiture  and  for  its  character  when  it  began  to  be  common. 
This  was  the  Hellenic  love  of  beauty.  Divided  though  the 
Greeks  were  into  numerous  states,  they  were  held  together 
by  bonds  of  language,  tradition,  religion  and  politics.  But 
the  bond  that  united  them  more  strongly  than  all  others,  even 
than  their  hatred  of  barbarians,  was  their  love  of  beauty. 
“Beauty  the  first  of  all  things”  says  Isocrates  “in  majesty  and 
honour  and  divineness.  Nothing  devoid  of  beauty  is  prized. 
The  admiration  of  virtue  itself  comes  to  this,  that,  of  all  mani- 
festations of  life,  virtue  is  the  most  beautiful.”  The  conse- 
quence of  this  feeling  was  to  make  the  individual  and  imperfect 
man  uninteresting  to  the  artist  while  the  general  and  typical 
figure  became  his  supreme  aim.  When  at  last  in  the  fifth  cen- 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


77 


tury  b.c.  portraiture  became  more  frequent  than  it  had  previ- 
ously been,  the  perfect  portrait  was  the  one  which  gave  most 
completely  the  impression  of  the  general  character  of  the  man 
and  not  the  one  which  gave  the  most  vivid  and  striking  rep- 
resentation of  the  separate  features  of  his  face. 

Curiously  enough  the  first  portrait  we  hear  of  in  Greece 
was  a caricature  of  the  poet  Hipponax  by  Bupalos  and  Athenis, 
artists  of  the  sixth  century  b.c.  While  caricature  was  at- 
tempted as  early  as  this,  as  is  shown  by  the  drama,  by  terra- 
cotta figurines  and  by  vases  such  as  those  from  the  sanctuary 
of  the  Kabeiroi  in  Boeotia,  it  may  be  questioned  whether  such 
a portrait  of  Hipponax  ever  existed.  The  details  of  the  story, 
such  as  the  suicide  of  the  artists  owing  to  the  satirical  attacks 
of  the  poet,  are  scarcely  credible,  and  if  we  remember  the  very 
strange  and  unlifelike  appearance  of  archaic  art  it  seems  not 
improbable  that  the  story  arose  in  the  attempt  to  explain 
some  rude  statue  the  true  intention  of  which  had  been  long 
forgotten  or  had  not  been  clearly  indicated.  Even  were  it 
certain  that  such  a caricature  did  once  exist,  the  knowledge 
would  be  of  no  great  interest,  because  caricatures  are  but  a 
debased  form  of  art.  They  are  only  the  exaggeration  of  acci- 
dental physical  peculiarities.  If  the  traces  of  a warped  or  ill- 
developed  character  show  in  the  face  or  figure,  the  represen- 
tation of  them  may  be  made  a caricature,  but  almost  all 
so-called  caricatures  show  not  oddities  of  character  but  de- 
formities of  person.  It  is  in  literature,  in  the  works  of  Moliere 
or  Shakespeare,  rather  than  in  sculpture  or  painting,  that  we 
find  true  caricatures.  Not  that  they  do  not  exist  in  the  plas- 
tic arts,  but  the  literary  art  lends  itself  more  readily  than  the 
others  to  this  mode  of  representation. 


78 


STUDIES 


Whatever  the  actual  facts  regarding  the  reported  portrait 
of  Hipponax  may  have  been,  it  is  not  till  about  the  first  quarter 
of  the  fifth  century  (circ.  500-475)  that  we  have  undoubted 
evidence  of  portraiture.  To  that  time  belongs  the  bust  of  a 
bearded  man  wearing  a helmet,  in  the  Glyptothek  in  Munich. 
A replica  of  this  work  exists  in  the  collection  of  Barrone  Bar- 
racco  in  Rome.  These  two  heads  may  well  be  copies  of  a 
statue  of  some  victor  in  the  games.  As  is  known,  portrait 
statues  were  allowed  only  to  thrice  victorious  athletes,  and 
they  were  erected  not  so  much  as  an  honour  to  the  victor 
as  to  keep  fresh  the  memory  of  one  who  had  thrice  been 
cherished  by  the  Gods.  But  this  rule  governing  the  mak- 
ing of  statues  of  athletes  clearly  shows  what  deep  signifi- 
cance a statue  was  considered  to  express  and  the  secondary 
importance  to  the  Greek  mind  of  keeping  a record  of  personal 
appearance.  Whether  of  a victor  or  not,  the  bust  referred  to 
belongs  to  the  early  period  of  development  of  the  technique 
of  sculpture,  before  it  had  been  perfectly  mastered,  when  the 
artist  was  able  to  represent  not  what  he  wanted  to  but  what 
he  was  able  to.  Hence  it  is  conventional ; so  much  so  that 
were  it  not  for  the  helmet  and  the  absence  of  any  attribute  of 
Divinity  we  could  hardly  be  sure  that  it  was  intended  as  a 
portrait. 

Probably  the  best  known  example  of  portraiture  produced 
during  the  period  when  the  technique  of  sculpture  was  thor- 
oughly understood  and  mastered,  is  the  head  of  Pericles  by 
Kresilas  to  which  I have  already  made  reference  (Plate  XLIV). 
It  is  a work  of  special  importance  owing  to  the  interest  attach- 
ing to  the  character  of  Pericles,  but  more  particularly  from  the 
artistic  point  of  view;  and  fortunately  there  exist  several 


Plate  XLVII 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


79 


careful  copies  of  it.  These  make  us  sure  what  its  artistic 
character  was,1  and  furthermore  Pliny  has  handed  down  to  us 
an  estimate  of  the  original  work  by  a critic  of  the  ancient 
world.  This  critic  expressed  concisely  and  epigrammatically 
the  intention  that  is  manifest  in  all  Greek  work  of  the  best 
time,  in  saying  that  the  bust  of  Pericles  by  Kresilas  shows  how 
art  can  make  a noble  man  still  nobler.2  Now  this  can  only 
be  said  of  the  best  Greek  and  Italian  work.  And  all  work,  no 
matter  where  or  by  whom  produced,  if  wrought  in  the  spirit 
which  was  shown  more  by  Greek  sculptors  and  Venetian 
painters  than  by  other  artists,  may  be  described  by  such  words. 
Such  a criticism  could  not  be  made  of  most  Roman  or  Floren- 
tine work.  It  can  only  be  said  of  work  in  which  the  attempt 
is  successfully  made  to  suggest  a perfected  type  by  the  improve- 
ment of  an  individual  example,  not  of  work  the  intention  of 
which  is  to  represent  the  individual  example  as  the  embodi- 
ment of  special  peculiarities  with  indifference  as  to  their 
excellence  or  defects. 

The  method  adopted  by  Kresilas  is  not  difficult  to  analyse. 
The  character  of  Pericles  was  a rare  and  happy  mixture  of 
calmness,  foresight,  perseverance  and  sensitiveness.  His 
power  of  understanding  men  and  conditions,  together  with  his 
quiet  and  steady  pursuit  of  his  aims,  is  shown  by  the  course 
of  his  political  policy.  His  sensitiveness  is  made  clear  by  his 

1 The  copies  known  to  me  are  (1)  in  the  British  Museum,  (2)  in  the  Vatican, 
(3)  in  the  collection  of  Barrone  Barracco,  Rome,  and  (4)  a fragment  in  the  collec- 
tion of  Alden  Sampson,  Esq.,  Haverford,  Penn. 

2 This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  the  meaning  of  the  Latin  word  nobilis.  Suffice 
to  say  that  if  it  is  translated  in  this  passage  by  its  more  commonplace  equivalent 
of  famous,  the  criticism  has  little  point,  since  it  is  self-evident  that  an  enduring 
monument,  whether  a statue  or  bust,  adds  to  the  fame  of  the  individual  in  whose 
honour  it  is  erected. 


80 


STUDIES 


unselfish  ambitions,  by  his  delight  in  works  of  the  fine  arts  and 
by  his  chivalrous  conduct  towards  Aspasia,  whom  general 
opinion,  not  confined  to  the  ancient  world,  would  have  al- 
lowed him  to  disregard  and  forget,  when  for  the  sake  of  giving 
offence  to  him  the  populace  attacked  her  character.  Such  was 
the  man  whom  Kresilas  had  to  portray,  and  with  high  artistic 
perception  he  chose  his  means. 

Kresilas,  we  can  well  understand,  might  have  shown  us  Peri- 
cles the  warrior,  or  Pericles  the  orator,  or  Pericles  the  lover  of 
philosophy  and  the  arts,  and  in  doing  so  might  have  given  a more 
striking  impression  of  one  or  more  of  the  special  qualities  by 
which  his  contemporaries  were  impressed.  Instead  of  this  he 
succeeded  in  setting  before  us  the  complex  of  all  these  qualities, 
and  many  more,  that  formed  Pericles  the  man.  The  helmet 
lifted  back  from  the  face  reminds  us  of  his  military  career  but 
does  not  force  this  on  our  attention.1  The  expression  of  the 
face  is  not  in  the  least  dreamy  but  is  thoughtful  and  grave ; 
an  expression  which,  considering  his  life  and  friends,  must 
have  been  habitual  when  he  was  in  repose.  It  should  not  be 
forgotten  that  the  attitudes  assumed  by  the  body  when  at 
rest  show  the  presence  or  lack  of  inborn  grace  and  dignity, 
and  the  expression  of  the  face  when  in  repose  is  an  index  to 
the  mental  nature.  The  expression  of  the  eyes  is  open;  the 
gaze  is  steady ; the  brow  is  undisturbed.  The  impression 
given  by  the  eyes  is  of  clear,  highly  developed  intelligence. 
In  the  mouth  which,  as  pointed  out  above,  is  the  most  in- 

1 It  is  a long-standing  error  to  suppose  that  Pericles’s  skull  as  shown  in  these 
busts  is  peculiarly  domed.  The  shape  of  the  tilted  helmet  makes  it  seem  to  be  so, 
but  comparison  with  other  heads  covered  by  the  Corinthian  helmet  shows  that 
his  is  in  no  way  abnormal  when  thus  represented,  however  it  may  have  been  when 
uncovered. 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


81 


dicative  single  feature  in  portrait  sculpture,  may  be  seen 
even  more  markedly  than  in  the  eyes,  the  man’s  character.  It 
is  a very  noticeable  mouth,  with  full  and  softly  modelled  lips, 
lips  such  as  usually  suggest  a weak  and  sensuous  character. 
But  this  mouth  is  neither  insignificant  nor  weak.  Its  great 
sensitiveness  passes  into  firmness  in  the  closure  of  the  lips  and 
the  strong  jaw,  and  shows  itself  not  as  that  of  an  ungoverned 
and  libitudinous  nature,  but  of  a reserved  and,  in  the  best 
way,  sensitive  quality.  It  is  a mouth  that  implies  vigour 
but  not  self-will ; the  mouth  of  a very  sensitive  and  apprecia- 
tive, but  not  a sensual  man. 

Besides  the  character  of  eyes  and  mouth,  the  treatment  of 
the  whole  head  must  be  studied  in  order  to  understand  what 
the  critic  meant  when  he  wrote  that  this  work  made  a noble 
man  still  nobler.  The  treatment  is  broad.  The  minor  and 
accidental  details  are  disregarded  that  the  general  effect  may 
be  clearer.  The  curling  hair  of  head  and  beard,  for  instance, 
is  not  tossed  about  in  disordered  masses,  as  so  often  in  later 
works,  but  is  conventionalised.  The  artist  realised  that  he 
could  not  imitate  hair,  and  consequently  sought  for  the  best 
graphic  symbol  by  which  to  suggest  curls.  In  the  modelling 
of  the  face  he  chose  an  expression  of  quietness  and  not  one 
of  any  fitful,  momentary  emotion;  and  by  not  representing 
any  slight  irregularities  of  surface  or  structure,  he  emphasised 
and  made  more  inevitably  noticeable  that  expression  which 
was  most  completely  indicative  of  the  man’s  essential  nature. 
He  has  given  us  not  alone  Pericles  the  leader  of  the  state,  nor 
Pericles  the  patron  of  the  fine  arts,  nor  Pericles  the  impas- 
sioned orator,  but  the  Pericles  of  history,  the  embodiment  of 
all  the  best  qualities  bred  in  Athens. 


82 


STUDIES 


It  must  not  be  thought  that  the  Pericles  head  alone  ex- 
hibits the  qualities  of  both  artist  and  sitter  which  I have 
attempted  to  suggest.  In  their  various  ways  the  portraits  of 
Sophocles,  Euripides,  Demosthenes,  the  so-called  Menander 
(Plate  XLV),  Periander  (Plate  XL VI)  and  many  another 
famous  Greek  show  similar  aesthetic  feeling. 

It  was  but  a short  time  after  the  death  of  Pericles  that  the 
intellectual  conditions  of  Greece  underwent  a great  change. 
Beliefs  that,  heretofore,  had  been  universally  held  by  the 
Greeks  began  to  be  questioned,  and  the  conditions  of  state- 
craft passed  into  a new  phase.  The  rise  and  fall  of  the  Mace- 
donian power  was  of  lasting  effect  on  the  Greek  character. 
Alexander  exhibits  the  type,  which  became  common  again 
in  the  Renaissance,  of  the  selfish  despot  who  maintained  his 
power  by  having  the  money  to  maintain  his  personal  influence. 
His  thoughts  were  set  chiefly  on  his  own  personal  glory  as 
expressed  in  his  empire.  He  tried,  but  unsuccessfully,  to 
make  his  court  the  centre  of  the  artistic  life  of  the  day.  He 
was  not  a patron  of  the  arts  but  of  artists.  To  Lysippus 
alone  was  granted  the  right  to  carve  his  portrait.  No  natural 
development  of  the  arts  was  possible  under  such  conditions. 

The  granting  of  such  a monopoly  to  Lysippus  shows  that 
Alexander  was  merely  interested  in  producing  on  posterity 
a good  effect  so  far  as  his  portraits  could  help  him  to  do  so. 
Copies  of  some  of  these  portraits  exist.  They  are  fine  in  many 
ways  and,  to  a high  degree,  lifelike,  but  they  and  other  similar 
works  of  the  epoch  lack  the  quietness  and  repose  of  the  works 
of  earlier  times.  There  is  a melodramatic  feeling  in  the  looser 
treatment  of  the  hair,  and,  oftentimes,  an  attempt  to  give  a 
superhuman  expression  to  the  face. 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


83 


These  qualities,  as  critics  have  often  noticed,  are  to  be 
found  in  all  the  forms  of  art  of  the  time,  so  far  as  we  now 
have  the  means  of  judging.  Even  in  architecture  there  is 
a noticeable  change.  Stone  is  not  laid  so  carefully,  the  cut- 
ting of  details  is  coarser  and  mouldings  are  heavier;  masses 
are  less  finely  proportioned  and  the  effects  of  light  and  shade 
are  made  more  definite  and  striking.  The  miniature  por- 
traits on  gems  and  coins  show  the  same  characteristics  as  the 
large  busts,  and  the  mere  fact  of  putting  portraits  of  con- 
temporary rulers  on  the  coinage  shows  that  the  relation  of  the 
individual  to  the  state  had  changed  and  that,  on  the  one 
hand,  the  desire  for  personal  fame  was  spreading  over  the 
world  — a desire  which  became  still  more  marked  in  the  Ro- 
man and  Renaissance  epochs ; while  on  the  other  the  worship 
of  rulers,  introduced  from  the  Orient,  had  firmly  entrenched 
itself.  In  fact,  these  Hellenistic  portraits  are  not  simple. 
While  the  technique  is  still  Greek,  there  is  something  else  in 
them  than  the  desire  of  the  artist  to  show  the  sitter  as  he  ap- 
peared to  his  contemporaries,  even  in  a rightly  idealised 
manner,  — they  manifest  the  desire  of  the  sitter  to  be  admired. 

The  tendencies  of  the  time  were  all  towards  exactness  of 
representation  of  existing  forms,  and  this  was  soon  attained. 
Perhaps  it  would  have  been  reached  even  sooner  had  it  not 
been  for  certain  interests  which  held  the  sculptors  partially 
to  the  old-time  aims.  One  such  conservative  influence  is 
shown  in  the  work  of  Silanion,  who  became  famous  for  his 
portraits  of  persons  dead  long  before  his  day.  Such  work,  if 
it  was  to  satisfy  a large  public,  and  this  was  what  it  aimed  at 
and  succeeded  in  doing,  had  to  be  of  a broad,  general  and  un- 
emphasized character,  for  the  nature  and  appearance  of  per- 


84 


STUDIES 


sons  known  only  by  tradition  is  necessarily  more  vaguely  and 
variously  observed,  less  easily  and  surely  grasped,  than  that 
of  the  living.  Hence,  if  Silanion  had  made  portraits  that  sug- 
gested strongly  what  seemed  to  him  the  most  vital  charac- 
teristic of  the  person  represented,  he  would  probably  have 
found  that  many  of  his  contemporaries  considered  some  very 
different  characteristic  the  most  essential.  To  please  the 
many  it  was  needful  for  his  work  to  embody  only  those  ideas 
that  were  generally  accepted.  Such  work  cannot  be  realistic 
in  the  sense  of  attracting  attention  to  detailed  peculiarities. 

Greek  portraiture  became  rapidly  more  and  more  pro- 
saically realistic.  But  even  in  its  last  stages,  when  Greek 
artists  were  still  employed  by  Greek  patrons,  the  realism  is 
generally  restrained.  The  old  conventionalism  and  typifying 
of  the  model  is  gone,  and  there  is  greater  frankness  in  the 
rendering  of  special  peculiarities  of  hair  or  skin ; but  the 
work  is  generally  quiet  and  dignified,  calm  in  expression  and 
reposeful  in  action.  The  artist  puts  before  us  not  the  type  and 
idea  suggested  by  the  man,  nor,  except  in  special  cases,  the 
man’s  own  desire  regarding  his  appearance,  but  the  real  daily 
aspect  of  the  man,  dressed  up  not  at  all,  treated  in  accordance 
with  the  essential  rules  of  sculpture  as  a fine  art. 

That  there  were,  however,  some  artists  who  amused  them- 
selves and  a thoughtless  public  with  portraits  that  were  vul- 
garly realistic  — realistic,  that  is,  in  the  representation  of 
ugly  and  unessential  details  — is  shown  by  what  we  know  of 
Demetrius  of  Alopeke.  He  is  noted  solely  for  his  successful 
rendering  of  ugliness.  But  there  was  too  much  cultivated 
taste  in  what  remained  of  the  Greek  world,  and  too  much  vigour 
and  good  sense  in  the  growing  Roman  world,  for  such  work  to 


Plate  XLVIII 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


85 


become  popular.  To  see  realism  developing  in  a strong  and 
healthy  manner,  we  must  turn  to  Rome  where,  though  the 
actual  carving  was  done,  with  few  exceptions  probably,  by 
Greek  workers,  still  the  character  of  the  work  itself  was  con- 
trolled by  Roman  ideas  (Plate  XL VII). 

The  dry,  matter  of  fact  quality  of  Roman  portraiture  as 
opposed  to  the  more  imaginative  work  of  the  Greeks,  has  long 
been  recognised.  Its  direct  and  unadorned  presentation  of 
the  human  face  is  noted  by  the  most  careless  observer  and  is 
to  most  people  pleasing.  It  makes  them  feel  at  ease;  they 
have  the  sensation  of  being  with  real  people ; it  does  not  de- 
mand of  them  a mental  effort  to  analyse  the  appearance 
before  them  in  order  to  understand  it.  But  notwithstanding 
the  facility  with  which  one  derives  very  definite,  and  it  may 
be  lasting,  impressions  from  these  Roman  busts,  they  are  by 
no  means  as  simple  and  artless  as  they  seem  at  first  sight  to  be. 
They  are  the  product  of  complex  influences  and  a highly  de- 
veloped art  and  are  as  difficult  to  understand  and  properly 
appreciate  as  are  the  earlier  Greek  ones. 

We  may  illustrate  what  has  been  said  by  glancing  a moment 
at  a portrait  of  an  unknown  old  man1  (Plate  XL VIII). 
This  is  a superb  example  of  Roman  portraiture  of  the  time 
of  the  Republic.  It  cannot  lay  claim  to  any  beauty  of  form 
or  feature ; it  is  uncompromisingly  homely.  Nevertheless  it 
has  a certain  fascination  for  the  beholder.  The  sculptor  was 
a great  master.  The  way  in  which  he  has  rendered  the  signs 
of  old  age  in  the  withered  neck,  the  irregular  wrinkles  of  the 
brow,  and  the  uneven  mouth  is  magnificent.  It  is  realism  of 
a perfect  kind,  for  the  evidence  of  the  wear  and  tear  of  life  is 

1 In  the  Brandegee  Collection. 


86 


STUDIES 


subdued  by  and  made  minor  to  the  splendid  and  enduring 
vigour  of  the  mind  and  character  behind  the  cheerful  old  face. 
What  an  old  age!  The  sap  may  be  running  slow,  the 
body  may  show  the  blows  dealt  by  life,  but  the  stiff,  short 
hair  is  still  thick,  the  head  is  still  held  upright  and  forward. 
It  is  a face  of  a clean-living,  plain-thinking  man,  one  who  had 
“ held  both  hands  before  the  fires  of  life,”  and  seems  to 
scarcely  suppress  a smile  at  the  thought  that  any  one  should 
want  the  portrait  of  his  old  face. 

Roman  art,  as  a whole,  was  practical  and  uninspired,  and 
far  from  imaginative.  In  large  measure  it  served  either  to 
answer  some  definite  practical  end  or  to  satisfy  (as  in  the 
decoration  of  palaces)  the  Roman  taste  for  grandeur  and  dis- 
play. It  shows  the  influence  of  a less  full-hearted  and  un- 
questioning religious  inspiration  than  that  which  had  such 
marked  effect  on  the  early  art  of  Greece  and  again  in  the 
Renaissance.  The  work  of  all  the  various  branches  of  art 
produced  in  the  Roman  territory  before  the  importation  of 
Greek  artists  was  of  the  rudest.  It  was  necessary  to  employ 
Etruscans  to  decorate  the  temple  of  the  Capitoline  Jove  and 
until  the  first  century  before  Christ  the  artistic  product  of 
Rome  seems  to  have  been  scanty.  The  energies  of  the  people 
were  expended  in  war  and  colonisation.  They  were  essentially 
a commercial  race.  The  existence  of  their  city  was  derived 
from  and  depended  on  their  control  of  foreign  trade.  The 
first  necessity  of  such  a city  was  to  master  the  business  of 
political  organisation  and  not  to  cultivate  the  tastes  that 
minister  to  affluence  and  ease.  Pride  of  race  and  the  ac- 
quisition of  great  wealth  were  results  of  the  transformation 
of  the  small  republic  into  the  great  empire,  and  with  pride 


Plate  XLIX, 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


87 


and  money  came  luxury,  and  the  arts,  with  the  desire  for 
portraits. 

Pliny  tells  of  portraits  made  of  wax,  owned  by  the  various 
families,  which  were  carried  in  funeral  processions,  — how 
these  were  considered  as  belonging  to  the  house  and  in  case 
of  the  sale  of  the  latter  passed  with  it  to  the  new  owner; 
such  portraits  as  these  would,  like  the  earlier  Egyptian  ones, 
tend  to  the  purest  realism  of  external  appearance.  He  men- 
tions also  the  muniment  rooms  filled  with  records  of  ancestors. 
Stress  was  laid  on  the  actions  of  the  illustrious  dead  in  order 
that  the  ensuing  generations  might  be  stirred  to  ambitious 
effort.  Very  different  is  this  from  the  Grecian  sinking  of  the 
individual  in  the  state.  Roman  tombstones  exhibit  the  same 
pride  in  great  deeds  and  the  same  interest  in  details.  They 
are  entirely  different  from  the  Greek  grave  monuments.  The 
Greek  gives  the  name  of  the  deceased,  and  sometimes  a greet- 
ing to  the  living  wayfarer  who  may  pass  by  and  note  the  tomb ; 
or,  sometimes  he  inscribed  a plaintive  verse  — the  expression 
of  a broken  heart  — but  nothing  more.  How  old  were  the 
dead  ? What  had  they  done  ? No  one  now  can  tell.  Their 
course  was  run  and  the  restless  curiosity  of  later  ages  must 
remain  unsatisfied.  On  Roman  tombstones  all  this  is  very 
different.  They  tell  us  the  age  and  family  of  the  deceased, 
their  occupation,  what  offices  they  had  held  and  their  age 
even  to  days.  In  the  cases  where  a portrait  of  the  dead  person 
is  added,  it  is  treated  in  no  general  and  typical  way ; but  the 
individual  is  set  before  us  with  unsparing  accuracy. 

This  interest  in  the  events  of  each  individual  life  led  to  the 
chief  difference  between  Roman  and  Greek  portrait  busts. 
The  Roman  thought  of  the  great  men  of  his  country  as  the 


88 


STUDIES 


persons  who  had  done  such  and  such  things  rather  than  as  the 
leaders  of  such  and  such  policies.  Consequently,  the  Roman 
portraits  suggest  activity  and  not  repose,  — : action  and  not 
thought.  The  idea  embodied  in  the  bust  is  not  of  a placid 
and  meditative  but  of  a positive  and  active  cast.  The  por- 
traitist seems  almost  always  to  represent  his  sitters  at  the 
moment  when  they  were  accomplishing  the  great  deed  that 
brought  them  fame.  The  eyes  are  made  expressive  by  being 
distinctly  focussed,  and  this  expression  is  emphasised  by  the 
treatment  of  the  brow,  which  oftentimes  is  more  or  less  wrinkled 
or  contracted  in  a way  that  suggests  vigorous,  passing,  mental 
action.  In  many  cases  the  ball  of  the  eye  is  cut  so  as  to  produce 
a strong  shadow  and  thus  to  suggest  the  pupil.  This  also 
makes  the  fixed  look  more  intense,  but  unless  the  light  is 
exactly  right  it  is  apt  to  produce  an  unpleasant  appearance. 

That  an  artist  should  do  this  shows  the  desire  for  dramatic, 
restless  effects.  The  treatment  of  the  lips  and  the  part  of  the 
face  about  the  mouth  also  suggests  an  expression  not  typical 
of  any  general  trend  of  thought  so  much  as  of  some  momentary 
and  strong  emotion.  Then  the  way  the  head  is  set  on  the  neck 
and  turns  sharply  to  one  side  or  the  other  can  be  understood 
only  by  supposing  that  the  artist  represented  the  sitter  as  he 
appeared  when  employed  on  some  one  active  and  characteristic 
piece  of  work.  There  is,  for  instance,  in  Corbulo  none  of  the 
Greek  treatment  of  the  individual  as  a type,  but  everything 
is  done  to  make  more  prominent  the  individualities  of  the  man. 
And  just  as  the  Pericles  is  not  alone  in  its  class,  so  too  the 
Corbulo  is  matched  by  many  others,  such  as  the  Julius  Csesar, 
the  Augustus,  Caracalla  or  Antoninus  Pius  (Plate  XLIX). 

As  one  looks  at  these  Roman  portraits  one  frequently 


Plate  L. 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


89 


feels  that  the  persons  are  on  the  point  of  moving.  But 
notwithstanding  this  quality  of  life  which  has  led  to  their 
being  called  realistic,  the  best  of  them  are  no  more  merely 
superficial  in  their  realism  than  the  best  Greek  busts.  Neither 
class  is  vulgarly  realistic  and  imitative  solely  in  the  external, 
but  both  depend  for  their  effect  on  the  correct  comprehension 
and  presentation  of  actual  phenomena  of  form  and  facial  expres- 
sion. The  different  effect  they  produce  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  Greek  desired  an  expression  of  the  inner  man,  the  man  as 
he  was  to  himself,  while  the  Roman  desired  the  expression 
of  the  man  as  he  showed  himself  to  others.  Putting  the  case 
concisely,  and  remembering  that  such  conciseness  does  not 
express  the  completest  truth,  we  may  say  that  one  was  the 
portrait  of  man  as  a thinker,  the  other  of  man  as  a doer. 

In  the  foregoing  explanation  of  the  nature  of  Roman  por- 
traits, no  account  has  been  taken  of  the  numerous  beautiful 
busts  of  children  and  women  that  were  carved  by  the  sculptors 
of  the  Eternal  City  At  first  sight  these  seem  to  contradict 
the  contention  that  the  almost  universal  intention  of  the 
Roman  sculptor  was  to  make  a portrait  of  a single  sharply 
defined  phase  of  his  sitter’s  personality.  They  seem  to  be 
done  rather  in  accordance  with  Greek  taste ; but  closer  study 
will  reveal  that  they  are  not  truly  Greek,  — that  their  real 
nature  is  Roman  and  their  seeming  Grecian  spirit  is  an  illusion 
due  to  accident  and  not  to  intention. 

Busts  of  children  or  women  made  to  show  character  in 
action  could  never  resemble  the  Roman  busts  of  men.  The 
qualities  that  make  the  character  of  men  are  non-existent,  or 
at  least  undeveloped,  in  the  child,  and  in  the  woman  take  an- 
other form.  The  Greek  by  his  generalising  and  typifying 


90 


STUDIES 


process  which  brought  about  the  production  of  placid  figures 
was  led  to  express  chiefly  those  qualities  which  produce  simi- 
lar effects  in  all  faces.  The  Roman,  though  searching  for 
active  expression  still  noted  in  the  child  as  the  most  beautiful 
and  characteristic  qualities,  softness,  roundness  and  breadth 
of  modelling,  and  the  dignity  of  infantine  demeanour.  Hence 
the  Roman  heads  of  children  have  a somewhat  Greek  look, 
but  in  every  part,  as  for  example  the  hair,  where  stress  can  be 
laid  on  accidental  and  purely  individual  appearance,  this  is 
done  (Plate  L).  The  Greek  appearance  was  inherent  in  the 
object;  the  most  suggestive  symbol  to  express  curled  or 
straight  locks  was  sought,  but  to  carve  hair  in  all  its  fairness 
of  strand,  in  all  its  waving  masses  or  its  fantasticalities  of 
fashion,  was  not  the  aim  of  the  sculptor.  In  Roman  work  the 
hair  is  scarcely  ever  conventionalised  in  a Grecian  manner  but 
shows  the  fashion  of  the  day.  Usually,  the  head  is  not  symmet- 
rically placed,  but  is  turned  to  one  side  or  the  other,  implying 
that  the  child’s  attention  was  attracted  to  some  special  object. 

The  same  points  are  to  be  noted  in  the  portraits  of  women. 
In  their  faces  as  in  children’s  the  beauty  and  softness  of  feature 
led  to  something  like  a Greek  breadth  of  modelling,  but  the 
hair  and  the  action  of  the  head  are  purely  Roman  (Plate  LI). 

The  Florentine  portraits  show  these  same  characteristics. 
Among  them  also  the  children  and  women  seem  at  first  glance 
to  be  Grecian  or  Venetian  in  character,  but,  when  looked  at 
more  closely,  one  sees  that  those  features  which  are  not  mere 
copies  of  nature  but  which  show  artistic  intention  are  not 
Venetian,  nor  Greek,  in  character,  but  Roman.  Yet  another 
class  of  Florentine  monuments  which  are  at  first  sight  mis- 
leading in  the  same  way  are  the  recumbent  statues  on  tombs. 


Plate  LI 


ART  OF  PORTRAITURE 


91 


In  these  the  Greek  quality  of  quietness  and  repose  is  very 
marked  and  is  due  to  the  artist  being  called  upon  to  represent 
faces  modelled  by  the  stilling  touch  of  death  and  no  longer  to 
be  thought  of  as  showing  active  forces.  But  even  in  these 
figures  the  intense  actuality  of  feature,  the  lack  of  convention- 
alising and  typifying,  is  noticeable.  In  fact  there  is  little 
doubt  that  oftentimes  the  artist  did  his  work  not  from  sketches 
of  the  living  model  but  from  a death  mask. 

If  now  we  consider  from  a more  general  point  of  view  this 
art  of  portraiture  and  its  relationship  to  times  and  peoples, 
certain  things  become  clear.  Portraiture  may  be  due,  as  in 
Egypt,  to  some  religious  motive,  but  this  is  uncommon. 
Where  it  develops  as  an  art,  simply  for  its  aesthetic  value, 
we  note  that  it  becomes  a general  practice  only  as  ideal 
and  imaginative  work  loses  ground.  While  the  Greeks  never, 
in  a certain  sense,  showed  much  imagination  in  their  sculpture, 
it  is  unquestionable  that  towards  the  end  of  the  fifth  century 
b.c.,  when  portraiture  becomes  prominent,  the  idealising  and 
religious  works  decrease  and  deteriorate.  The  same  truth 
holds  good  in  Italy  during  the  Renaissance,  when  much  more 
imagination  was  shown  than  in  Greece.1  Portraiture  is  due  to 
a family  interest  in  its  own  members  or  to  a people’s  interest 
in  an  individual.  It  is  not  practised  (for  artists  such  as  Sila- 
nion  are  not  true  portraitists ) by  the  artist  to  please  himself. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  interests,  private  or  public,  that 
call  for  portraiture,  the  art  becomes  common  only  in  times  of 
centralisation,  times  when  large  fortunes,  and  hence  great 

1 One  instance  will  suffice  to  show  what  I mean  by  this.  Far  more  pure  imagina- 
tion is  shown  in  the  Italian  representations  of  the  Creation  or  the  Last  Judgment 
than  in  the  Greek  scenes  of  the  lives  of  their  Gods  with  which  they  decorated  pedi- 
ment and  frieze. 


92 


STUDIES 


power,  are  possessed  by  individuals.  Furthermore,  no  matter 
who  may  be  the  persons  represented  (setting  aside  women  and 
children)  it  is  not  possible  to  carve  or  paint  them  except  in 
one  of  two  ways,  as  an  embodiment  of  thought,  or  as  an 
embodiment  of  action.  The  former  method  appealed  to 
Greeks  and  Venetians,  — the  latter  better  pleased  the  Romans 
and  Florentines.  Both  are  realistic  because  both  strive  to 
show  in  one  way  or  another  actually  existent  forms  and  ex- 
pressions. It  depends  on  each  man’s  natural  temperament 
which  will  give  him  most  satisfaction.  Other  methods  are 
frequently  adopted  in  the  modern  struggle  for  originality, 
but  it  is  safe  to  say  that  they  will  exert  little  influence  on  the 
development  of  art,  for,  while  they  may  be  clever  devices, 
while  they  make  certain  effective  features  particularly  promi- 
nent, they  are  still  unsatisfactory  because  they  produce  at 
best  but  a partial  likeness.  If  it  be  granted  that  there  are  but 
two  great  methods  of  portraiture,  there  is  yet  no  reason  to  fear 
that  dulness  will  ensue.  The  interest  excited  by  the  indi- 
vidual man  comes  from  the  character  shown. 

There  are  just  double  as  many  portraits,  potentially,  as 
there  are  individuals,  and  the  interest  of  portraiture  lies  in 
what  the  artist  makes  us  comprehend  of  the  nature  of  the 
man.  Too  often  the  public  is  deceived  into  thinking  that 
the  work  of  handicraftsmen,  with  little  or  no  power  of  reading 
and  understanding  character,  is  to  be  judged  as  true  portrait- 
ure. Such  work  may  be  decorative  in  chiaroscuro,  it  may  be 
pleasant  as  colour;  but  the  mere  drawing  of  a face,  even  if 
what  is  called  a good  likeness  is  produced,  is  not  portraiture. 
It  is  but  the  outer  husk  and  dead  wrapping  hiding  the  vital 
germ  within. 


II.  PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


Different  as  were  the  lives  and  works  of  the  two  sculptors 
whose  names  are  more  familiar  to  us  than  those  of  any  others, 
there  were,  nevertheless,  many  circumstances  of  closely  re- 
lated character  that  affected  their  careers.  But  apart  from 
such  circumstances  the  consideration  of  even  those  influences 
which  were  absolutely  different  in  the  one  case  and  in  the 
other,  exhibits  clearly  some  of  the  broader  laws  of  the  art 
practised  by  them  both.  In  truth,  it  is  the  art  rather  than 
the  individual  style  of  the  sculptors  that  is  worth  study,  for 
the  art  is  a language,  the  works  but  the  expression  of  single 
ideas ; the  one  is  a perpetual  and  constantly  varying  power, 
the  other  but  separate  thoughts  expressed. 

Naturally  the  two  interests,  one  that  of  becoming  more 
familiar  with  the  products  of  the  “fine  intelligence  of  noble 
minds,”  the  other  the  more  abstract  one  of  a more  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  powers  and  possibilities  of  one  of  the  fine 
arts,  are  inextricably  combined.  The  study  of  the  two  sculp- 
tors mentioned  is  particularly  interesting  owing  to  the  ever- 
increasing  production  of  sculpture  in  our  own  day ; and  owing 
to  various  conditions  in  modern  life,  there  is  a close  relation- 
ship in  many  important  matters  between  us  and  these  two 
masters  of  days  long  past.  Therefore,  whatever  can  be  cer- 
tainly learned  about  them  will  help  us  to  appreciate  more 
truly  the  work  and  workers  of  to-day  and  to-morrow.  Noth- 


93 


94 


STUDIES 


ing  can  help  more  to  attain  this  appreciation  and  sympathy 
than  the  study  of  the  great  workers  of  past  ages,  even  when 
they  may  to  a casual  glance  seem  to  be  of  somewhat  remote 
interest. 

The  work  of  men  such  as  Pheidias  and  Michael  Angelo  can- 
not be  considered  by  any  serious  student  as  in  fact  remote 
from  our  time  and  interests.  The  study  of  the  Past,  partic- 
ularly that  part  filled  by  Greece,  becomes  every  day  more 
and  more  general  and  the  influence  of  the  Renaissance  in 
Italy  upon  modern  thought  and  work  is  seen  on  every  hand ; 
here  we  come  to  the  first  noteworthy  fact  regarding  these  two 
sculptors.  It  is  not  going  too  far  to  say  that  all  the  best 
Greek  sculpture,  that  is  to  say,  what  was  produced  during  the 
latter  half  of  the  fifth  century  before  Christ  and  the  fourth 
century,  was  strongly  influenced  by  Pheidias  and  that  his 
influence  shows  itself  intermittently  until  the  end  of  the  ancient 
world. 

It  would  of  course  be  too  much  to  claim  Pheidias  as  the 
originator  of  all  the  qualities  in  sculpture  which  are  apt,  nowa- 
days, to  be  named  Pheidian,  but  as  the  master  who  most  ade- 
quately expressed  the  ideals  held  in  his  time  so  far  as  sculpture 
allowed  of  their  expression,  he  may  be  used  as  the  type;  and 
among  the  varied  interests  which  Michael  Angelo  and  the 
other  students  of  the  Renaissance  found  in  Greek  work  were 
several  that  may  properly  be  called  Pheidian. 

This  influence  of  Greek  work  on  the  Renaissance  can  hardly 
be  over  estimated.  It  shows  [itself  in  many  ways  and  with 
varying  force,  — sometimes  producing  direct  imitation  of 
ancient  works,  then  again  becoming  manifest  in  new  work 
done  with  the  intention  of  reviving  the  spirit  of  the  ancient 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


95 


world.  Michael  Angelo  did  not  fall  under  the  spell  as  com- 
pletely as  many  of  his  less  vigorously  original  contem- 
poraries, but  it  was  no  more  to  be  entirely  avoided  by  him 
than  one  of  the  laws  of  nature.  Thus  with  the  work  of 
the  Greeks  directly  affecting  us  to-day  in  a very  similar  way 
to  that  in  which  it  affected  the  Italians  in  the  fourteenth  and 
fifteenth  centuries,  and  with  the  work  of  the  later  period,  deeply 
tinctured  with  the  Grecian  dye,  also  influencing  us,  it  becomes 
deeply  interesting  to  find  in  what  the  greatest  artists  of  the 
two  periods  were  alike  and  wherein  they  differed  one  from 
the  other. 

The  influence  of  Pheidias  on  the  art  of  his  race  was  not  so 
much  that  of  the  originator  or  inventor  as  it  was  that  of  the 
poet,  who  gathering  the  various  and  unconnected  beauties 
that  are  felt  by  all,  though  less  keenly  than  by  him,  binds 
them  together  by  the  indefinable  power  of  his  genius  and  gives 
back  to  the  admiring  world  not  separate  things  of  beauty  but 
a standard  of  the  beautiful  and  perfect.  And  this  power  of 
genius  deals  with  such  finenesses,  is  so  subtle,  that  oftentimes 
it  is  almost  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  make  clear  the  man- 
ner of  its  working.  As  the  sensitiveness  of  the  photographic 
plate  is  greater  than  that  of  the  eye,  so  the  trained  and  per- 
ceptive eye  notes  much  that  can  only  with  difficulty  be  ex- 
pressed by  words.  The  genius  is  felt,  it  thrills  and  vivifies 
the  observer,  but  it  cannot  be  expounded  like  a problem  in 
mathematics. 

For  this  reason,  we  must  believe,  the  few  great  writers  on 
these  matters  are  oftentimes  scoffed  at  by  persons  whose  eyes 
have  not  been  trained  to  see  nor  their  hearts  to  understand. 
Not  that  the  scoffers  can  be  blamed  for  this  unhappy  sterility 


96 


STUDIES 


of  their  powers,  for  in  most  cases  the  circumstances  of  life 
have  not  been  of  that  fortunate  kind  which  would  enable  them 
to  acquire  the  finer  faculties.  They  are  only  to  be  blamed 
in  so  far  as  either  through  envy  or  stupidity  they  refuse  to 
believe  that  others  may  be  endowed  with  power  which  is 
lacking  to  them  — power  dependent  upon  long  and  arduous 
training.  It  is  a curious  but  familiar  phenomenon  that  the 
person  who  will  not  hesitate  an  instant  to  admit  that  the 
trained  rider  or  sportsman  or  oarsman  can  ride,  shoot  or  row 
better  than  he  can,  will  energetically  claim  for  himself  as  fine- 
seeing  an  eye,  or  a mind  as  keenly  interpretative,  as  the  prac- 
tised artist  or  the  scholar.  That  is,  he  asserts  that  the  exer- 
cises of  the  body  need  training,  but  those  of  eye  and  brain 
do  not,  a theory  manifestly  absurd. 

The  genius  of  Pheidias  is  so  ultimate  in  its  fineness  that  it 
needs  long  training  before  it  can  be  properly  appreciated.  If 
this  is  doubted,  one  has  but  to  consider  the  fact,  that  among  all 
the  numerous  references  to  him  and  his  work  which  are  pre- 
served for  us  in  ancient  writers,  not  one  mentions  him,  as  his 
elder  contemporaries  Myron,  Pythagoras,  Kalamis  or  many 
others  are  mentioned,  as  having  been  the  first  to  institute  any 
particular  detail  of  carving.  No  new  treatment  of  the  hair, 
no  new  way  of  representing  the  body,  no  special  scheme  of 
proportion  are  attributed  to  him,  and  yet  the  absolute  con- 
sensus of  opinion  was  that  he  was  the  unrivalled  master  of 
them  all.  Fashions  changed,  and  a new  one,  that  of  making 
collections,  arose,  which  demanded  the  satisfaction  of  indi- 
vidual tastes,  but  Pheidias’s  fame  knew  no  eclipse. 

Besides  this  subtle  quality  in  his  genius,  this  weaving  of  the 
various  beautiful  threads  spun  by  others  into  one  consummate 


Plate  LII 


* 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


97 


stuff,  there  are  other  qualities  that  render  his  work  diffi- 
cult to  appreciate.  One  is  that  the  ideals  both  of  religion  and 
of  life  were  very  different  from  those  of  to-day,  so  that  we  have 
to  lay  aside  all  preconceived  notions  and  at  first  regard  him  as 
children  who  wonder  but  do  not  understand.  This  is  the 
hardest  task  the  student  ever  has  to  master,  to  free  himself 
from  the  bonds  of  the  conventions,  beliefs  and  circumstances 
common  to  his  own  day  and  study  the  work  of  another  time 
with  (so  far  as  he  can  accomplish  it)  an  understanding  sym- 
pathy with  the  conventions,  beliefs  and  circumstances  be- 
longing to  those  other  days.  Still  a further  difficulty  lies 
in  the  fact  that  there  does  not  exist  in  the  world  one  single 
work  of  which  we  can  say  : this  is  truly  and  completely  by 
Pheidias.  The  marble  figures  from  the  Parthenon  show  his 
quality  in  many  respects  clearly  but  these  we  know  were 
worked  upon  by  assistants.  Other  works  by  him  exist  in 
copies,  but  for  the  most  part  these  copies  can  be  shown  to  be 
bad  and  should  be  used  as  evidence  only  with  the  utmost 
care.  Yet,  notwithstanding  these  difficulties,  the  image  that 
we  have  of  him  is,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted,  clearly  defined 
in  the  main  outlines. 

How  different  is  all  this  in  the  case  of  Michael  Angelo  ! 
Here  our  embarrassment  is  of  a character  diametrically  op- 
posed and  comes  from  the  fact  that  we  are  so  burdened  with 
details  about  his  life  and  work  that  the  really  important 
matters  are  partially  obscured  by  trivialities.  Contempo- 
raries and  fellow- workmen  wrote  his  life;  his  letters  and  poems 
have  been  preserved;  documents  of  all  sorts  regarding  his 
works  exist,  and  the  works  themselves  are  where  they  can  be 
easily  seen. 


98 


STUDIES 


Beyond  all  these  aids  to  our  knowledge  of  the  man  we 
have,  again,  the  more  vital  one  that  the  age  in  which  he  lived 
is  almost  as  well  understood  as  our  own,  and  many  of  the 
greater  currents  of  thought  and  action  were  but  little  different 
to  those  of  the  present  time.  Unlike  the  Pheidian  time,  but 
like  to-day,  his  was  not  a period  when  governments  deeply 
believed  in  the  protection  of  their  Gods  nor  one  in  which  the 
individual  was  scarcely  considered  except  as  a detail  of  the 
state,  nor  when  portrait  statues  were  almost  unknown.  Con- 
quest for  the  love  of  gain,  and  commonwealths  subdued  to 
one  will,  were  the  rule.  The  truly  Greek  period  in  the  develop- 
ment of  Italy,  the  time  of  the  blossoming  of  Venice,  of  Siena, 
of  Florence  had  given  way  to  the  Alexandrian  epoch.  Though 
the  idea  that  the  will  of  the  masses  should  govern  the  state 
was  fortunately  not  yet  formulated,  the  development  of  in- 
dividualism was  well  under  way,  and  instead  of  men  governing 
their  lives  by  general  ideals  they  all  sought  to  raise  themselves 
on  the  shoulders  of  their  less  fortunate  brothers  to  enjoy  a 
little  while  the  glory  of  a special  and  peculiar  fame.  Hence 
called  as  he  was  to  lend  his  power  to  the  satisfaction  of  such 
desires  as  these,  Michael  Angelo’s  work  was  in  many  cases, 
in  those,  that  is,  where  he  was  working  for  a master  other 
than  his  own  instinct,  tinged  with  a character  utterly  out  of 
accord  with  that  of  Pheidias,  and  yet  curiously  enough  even 
in  these  works  there  are  signs  of  a strong  undercurrent  of 
feeling  which  would  have  bound  him  and  Pheidias  together  as 
the  most  sympathetic  friends,  thus  showing  that  at  bottom 
art  is  not  governed  by  circumstance  of  time  or  place. 

There  were  however  certain  very  important  aspects  in  which 
life  as  Michael  Angelo  saw  it  in  Italy,  and  particularly  in 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


99 


Florence,  was  curiously  similar  to  what  it  was  in  Athens  in  the 
fifth  century  b.c.  The  climate  and  general  appearance  of  the 
two  countries  is  even  now  not  unlike,  and  it  must  have  been 
much  less  so  in  the  time  when  the  hills  of  Greece  were  so  forest- 
grown  that  Pan  and  the  nymphs  could  really  live  in  comfort 
there,  and  before  modern  improvements  had  eradicated  many 
of  the  individual  peculiarities  of  Italy.  Then  too  the  habits 
of  the  cultivated  classes  were  similar.  Under  very  different 
forms  the  principles  of  education  seem  to  have  been  the  same. 
The  schooling  shown  in  Castiglione’s  Cortegiano  is  like  that 
given  the  Grecian  youth.  It  was  an  education  which  com- 
prised, both  in  Greece  and  in  Italy,  music,  drawing,  a knowledge 
of  the  thought  and  actions  of  past  generations  and  a mastery 
of  all  those  exercises  that  conduced  to  self-defence  or  to  the 
more  perfect  development  of  the  body.  Similar  training 
naturally  taught  the  men  of  these  two  worlds  to  see  life  in 
very  similar  ways,  and  although  the  teachings  of  the  Catholic 
Church  were  very  different  from  those  of  the  Greek  religion  in 
regard  to  the  relations  between  men  and  women,  yet  life  and 
instinct  were  stronger  than  the  holy  teachings,  and  in  this 
point  too  the  simplicity  and  naturalness  of  the  Greek  found 
its  counterpart  in  Italy. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  the  power  exerted  by  these  various 
influences  on  the  art  of  sculpture  was  very  great,  more  so  even 
than  on  the  sister  art  of  painting,  for  it  is  on  the  realisation 
of  what  constitutes  a fine  body,  on  the  equal  simplicity  of 
treatment  of  the  woman’s  form  and  the  man’s,  and  the  knowl- 
edge of  what  ideas  can  be  best  interpreted  in  terms  of  form, 
that  the  art  of  sculpture  depends.  Art  is  but  the  translation 
of  emotion,  and  each  particular  art  has  a particular  way  of 


100 


STUDIES 


accomplishing  the  translation ; and  in  this,  painting  and  sculp- 
ture are  more  closely  connected  than  any  two  other  arts,  so 
much  so  that  sculptors  in  the  two  greatest  periods  — the 
Greek  and  the  Renaissance  — rarely  considered  their  work  as 

finished  until  the  power  of  colour  had  been  used  to  heighten 
% 

the  effect,  and  often  practised  the  two  arts  coincidently.  But 
during  these  two  periods  the  limits  imposed  by  the  materials  of 
the  various  arts  were  clearly  recognised  and  closely  adhered 
to,  and  in  the  best  sculpture  of  the  Renaissance  there  is  no 
more  attempt  to  represent  landscape  or  other  purely  colour 
effects  than  in  the  Parthenon.  Sometimes,  however,  as  in 
the  drapery  of  the  Moses  or  the  modelling  of  the  Pieta  in  St. 
Peter’s,  Michael  Angelo  does  seem  to  overstep  the  limits  of 
sculpture  and  to  seek  for  effects  which  could  be  more  simply 
and  much  more  intelligibly  given  in  painting  than  in  stone; 
effects  that  need  the  manifold  devices  of  light  and  shade  and 
colour  which  are  at  the  disposal  of  the  painter  rather  than  the 
sculptor. 

This  is,  however,  a rare  weakness  in  the  works  of  Michael 
Angelo,  and  one  that  apparently  ne  ver  entered  those  of  Pheid- 
ias.  . One  reason  for  this  is  that  the  art  of  painting  was  more 
completely  comprehended  in  Italy  than  in  Greece,  and  the 
Italian  artists,  more  commonly  than  the  Grecian,  practised 
both  arts.  Hence,  great  painter  as  well  as  great  sculptor, 
endowed  with  a readiness  of  hand,  such  as  scarcely  any  other 
artist  ever  had,  to  reproduce  whatever  his  mind  imaged,  it 
is  no  wonder  that  Michael  Angelo  at  times  went  beyond  the 
bounds  of  one  art  and  seemed  magically  to  interfuse  the  beau- 
ties of  both  of  them.  It  would  have  been  a greater  wonder 
had  he  not  done  so.  It  was  not  a sign  of  his  weakness  so  much 


Plate  LIII 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


101 


as  of  his  strength,  of  the  inability  of  any  one  art  to  satisfy 
the  artist’s  desire  and  ideal.  In  this  greater  complexity, 
which  shows  at  times  in  the  detail  of  his  work,  Michael  Angelo 
differed  from  Pheidias,  but,  almost  invariably,  the  two  artists, 
while  differing  in  their  feeling  for  line,  or  gesture,  or  substance, 
treat  the  human  figure  and  its  accessories  in  the  same  way. 
In  both  one  sees  a distinct  and  necessary  dwelling  on  the 
nude. 

Where  the  human  figure  is  chosen  as  the  object  of  a work 
of  art,  there  are  but  two  chief  means  by  which  to  represent 
the  emotions  it  contains,  one  the  expression  of  the  face,  one  the 
action  of  the  body  as  a whole.  It  is  in  the  representation  of 
the  face,  the  most  palpable  index  of  the  emotions,  that  paint- 
ing, with  its  power  over  almost  infinitesimal  lights  and  shades, 
finds  fullest  scope  for  its  power,  while  it  is  in  the  greater  lines 
of  the  frame  and  the  larger  gestures  that  sculpture  satisfies 
herself.  So  it  is  that  in  the  sculptural  work  of  both  Michael 
Angelo  and  Pheidias  one  finds  drapery  treated  not,  as  was 
distinctly  the  case  in  the  statues  of  Praxiteles,  for  its  own 
special  beauty  apart  from  the  whole  work,  but  as  a means  of 
emphasising  the  beauty  of  the  body  whose  details  it  hid. 

Look  at  the  group  of  three  women  from  the  western  pedi- 
ment of  the  Parthenon,  or  the  Lemnian  Athena,  or  the  Carya- 
tids of  the  Erechtheum  (Plate  LII)  — for  these  are  utterly 
Pheidian  in  character  even  if  not  by  the  master  himself  - — or 
the  figures  on  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon  (Plate  LVII)  or  the 
Hegeso  relief.  In  all  these  the  drapery  ripples  over  the 
shoulders  and  breasts,  breaking  in  great  falls  around  the  waist 
and  legs  to  disappear  and  fade  away  in  little  curling  waves 
around  the  feet,  not  hiding  the  soft  details  of  the  figure 


102 


STUDIES 


underneath  but  serving  rather  as  a frame  to  emphasise  the 
beauties  and  set  them  in  true  relation  to  the  surroundings. 
That  there  was  any  ethical  need  of  hiding  the  figure  would 
have  seemed  the  height  of  absurdity  to  the  Greek  or  the 
Italian.  Out  of  the  dark  it  comes  and  back  to  the  dark  it 
goes  in  this  Adamite  condition,  so  why  should  the  artist  not 
use  it  so  if  it  serves  his  purpose  ? 

Thus  it  has  been  used  in  all  times  when  there  was  a vital 
art,  and  such  times  have  been  distinguished  for  greater  sanity 
of  thought  and  health  of  body  than  when  art  was  governed 
by  mediaeval  fanaticisms.  Michael  Angelo’s  figures  are  as 
distinguished  for  this  quality  as  are  those  shaped  by  the 
Grecian  chisel.  His  feeling  for  the  value  of  the  nude  is  so 
strong  that  he  can  hardly  suffer  the  drapery  at  all.  The 
Moses,  the  Madonnas,  the  Medici  Princes  are  to  all  intents 
in  large  measure  undraped.  Considered  as  draped  figures 
they  distinctly  lack  the  temperance  and  quiet  nobility  of  the 
Greek  figures,  for  the  reason  that  although  his  feeling  towards 
the  relation  of  draped  and  nude  parts  is  the  same,  Michael 
Angelo  does  not  attain  his  end  in  as  consummate  a way.  He 
makes  too  sharp  a distinction  between  the  parts  that  are 
really  draped,  the  parts  that  are  but  seem  not  to  be,  and  the 
nude.  But  in  one  point  of  this  same  nature  the  two  artists 
are  completely  alike.  They  both  regarded  the  human  figure 
from  the  purely  artistic  point  of  view  as  a means  to  suggest 
certain  ideas.  The  religious  meaning,  the  question  as  to  its 
sanctity  or  unhallowedness,  no  more  occurred  to  them  than  to 
question  the  advisability  of  warming  themselves  before  the 
fire  when  they  were  cold  because  there  were  fires  in  Hell. 
They  were  completely  natural. 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


103 


In  regard  to  the  lack  of  complexity  and  to  the  greater  re- 
pose, it  may  be  admitted  that  Pheidias  has  the  advantage  over 
Michael  Angelo  whose  works,  true  index  as  they  are  of  his 
character,  suffered  from  the  time  in  which  he  lived  — his 
character  suffered  and  hence  his  work.  His  was  a time  of 
scepticism  and  hence  of  worry.  The  tranquillity  that  marked 
the  Greek  mind  was  rarely  found  in  his  day.  Aretino  was 
planting  the  destructive  roots  of  modern  journalism,  and  ex- 
cept, in  a way  marked  by  strong  affectation,  at  certain  courts, 
one  would  have  had  to  go  far  to  find  Platonic  Symposia  or 
Olympic  gatherings.  The  cloudy  brow  of  Michael  Angelo 
himself  as  well  as  of  many  of  his  figures  is  a sign  how  the  per- 
plexity of  the  times  preyed  upon  the  sculptor  and  in  turn 
affected  not  only  the  chief  motive  of  many  of  his  works  but 
also  their  very  details. 

And,  if  we  admit  the  truth,  this  worry  and  perturbation  is 
more  natural  to  us  than  is  the  Greek  grace  and  calm  which,  to 
those  who  do  not  understand  the  time,  seems  unnatural  and 
forced.  It  was  not  so,  however.  The  Greek  was  never 
forced,  but  though  he  felt  intensely,  he  considered  that  the 
possession  and  exercise  of  control  over  emotion  was  as  much 
to  be  desired  as  the  power  which  found  expression  in  beating 
back  barbarian  hordes.  The  tenderness  of  Greek  friendships 
is  proverbial,  but  the  whole  tone  of  Greek  tragedy  is  of  passion 
held  in  check,  — carried  in  the  heart  rather  than  worn  on 
the  face.  Slaves  and  servants  gave  way  to  noisy  grief,  but 
not  their  masters.  A Greek  of  the  Periclean  age  could  scarcely 
have  understood  the  worn,  wearied,  soul-troubled  look  of  the 
Pensieroso.  It  was  not  that  the  Greek  was  unimpassioned, 
but  he  never  let  his  passions  govern  him.  He  guided  them  as 


104 


STUDIES 


a rider  guides  a restive  horse  — as  the  youths  on  the  Parthenon 
guide  theirs  — calming  and  soothing  them  lest  the  animal 
become  the  master  and  break  away  from  the  chosen  path. 

This  difference  in  the  character  of  the  two  races  was  due 
largely  to  religion,  which  had  the  most  marked  effect  on  the 
work  produced  in  the  two  countries.  One  is  apt  to  think, 
when  one  sees  the  limitless  mass  of  churches,  decorated  by 
painter  and  sculptor,  in  Italy,  and  the  unending  array  of  lesser 
works  of  distinctly  religious  intent,  that  no  art  could  be  more 
religious  than  that  of  Italy.  But  just  as  in  the  conduct  of 
individuals  it  is  the  spirit  rather  than  the  form  of  action  that 
is  the  true  index  to  their  character,  so  in  art  it  is  the  feeling 
the  work  shows,  and  not  merely  its  outer  form,  which  indicates 
its  true  nature  and  value.  Now  not  merely  in  the  number  of 
religious  works  was  Greece  in  the  Periclean  days  as  distin- 
guished as  ever  Italy  was,  but  she  was  far  more  noteworthy, 
in  that  her  religion  was  a much  more  vital  impulse  than  that 
of  Italy.  This  is  certainly  true  of  the  Periclean  as  opposed 
to  the  Medicean  age. 

In  the  light  of  present  knowledge  the  circumstances  that  led 
to  these  conditions  are  discernible.  Like  every  innocent  race 
the  Greeks  had  a firm  belief  in  the  Gods,  beings  developed  in 
their  minds  by  very  varied  influences,  and  for  the  most  part  not 
of  a character  to  serve  as  guides  to  ideal  conduct  after  the 
race  had  once  gained  the  capacity  for  using  its  mind  in  a logi- 
cal way.  One  or  two  of  these  beings  were,  however,  as  noble 
as  any  such  conceptions  at  any  time.  This  power  to  use  the 
mind  rationally  was  not  yet  a national  possession  when  Pheid- 
ias  grew  up.  It  was  just  becoming  so.  The  development  of 
the  mind,  the  strength  of  it,  was  there,  but  for  a few  decades 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


105 


circumstances  turned  the  thoughts  of  the  people  away  from 
philosophic  consideration  to  more  ecstatic  modes  in  which  old 
conceptions  were  clung  to  with  passionate  fondness  and  made 
more  beautiful,  but  a change  of  belief  was  the  work  of  a fol- 
lowing generation. 

These  circumstances  were  chiefly  a consequence  of  the 
Persian  Wars.  Greece  was  threatened  with  destruction. 
Athens  was  harried,  and  the  glories  of  the  Acropolis  were 
razed  to  the  ground.  Phoenix-like  they  disappeared  in  fire  to 
have  an  image  of  themselves  more  splendid  in  its  youth  and 
vigour  rise  as  a light  to  all  the  world.  But  though  the  bar- 
barian had  for  a moment  seemed  master  of  the  situation,  the 
Greeks  had,  with  the  active  help  of  the  Gods,  been  the  final 
victors  and  it  was  in  the  service  of  thanks  to  their  divine 
helpers  that  Pheidias  found  his  chief  employment.  It  was 
only  in  the  very  early  years  of  the  Renaissance  that  the  Ital- 
ians experienced  any  such  miracles  as  those  which  Pheidias’s 
elder  contemporaries  had  known  — as,  for  instance,  at  the 
battle  of  Ravenna  — and  the  effect  on  them  then  was  much  the 
same  as  it  had  been  on  the  Greeks.  It  was  the  actual  presence 
of  the  Gods  at  critical  moments  that  stirred  the  Greeks.  In 
Athens  Athena’s  snake  led  them  to  safety,  at  Salamis  the 
Aiakrdoi  inspired  the  heroes  with  their  battlecry,  and  Pan 
himself  urged  the  weary  messenger  over  the  mountain  passes. 
The  Greeks  no  more  doubted  that  their  victory  was  due  to 
assistance  lent  them  by  the  Gods  than  that  there  had  been  a 
war.  One  event  was  as  real  to  them  as  the  other,  so  it  was 
natural  for  them,  as  soon  as  their  hearths  were  once  more  lit, 
to  render  thanks  to  their  Divinities  by  raising  images  of  them 
on  all  sides,  that  they  might  never  forget  them,  and  by  building 


106 


STUDIES 


for  the  houses  of  their  Gods  as  beautiful  temples  as  could  by 
any  possible  means  be  made. 

We  may  frankly  concede  that  the  grandeur  of  this  work, 
the  generousness  of  it,  can  only  be  understood  when  one  fully 
grasps  the  fact  that  a Greek  temple  was,  what  the  Christian’s 
is  not,  the  house  of  the  Lord.  In  it  but  few  and  most  private 
services  were  performed,  — no  processions,  no  crowds  of  more  or 
less  attentive  worshippers,  no  expounding  of  the  word,  nothing 
whatever  of  that  sort.  The  temple  was  the  sacred  dwelling 
place  of  the  deity,  and  the  curious  no  more  thought  of  entering 
it  than  of  opening  uninvited  their  fellow-citizen’s  door.  It 
was  a free  gift  to  the  God  and  not  to  be  thought  of  as  a source 
of  satisfaction  to  the  builders  except  in  the  same  way  as  it 
pleases  a lover  to  have  his  mistress  accept  some  gift  at  his 
hands.  This  feeling  is  repeated  frequently  in  Pindar  and  in 
other  poets  inspired  by  the  ‘golden  muse.’  So  it  was  that, 
flushed  with  the  excitement  of  a great  cause  nobly  won,  the 
Greeks  turned  the  full  force  of  their  keen,  glad  energy  to 
works  that  showed  their  own  greatness  by  manifesting  with 
the  sharpness  of  full  understanding  the  form  of  their  ideals. 

In  our  day,  animated  by  so  different  interests  and  ambitions, 
it  is  hard  to  sympathise  with  this  natural  idealistic  work  done 
in  Athens,  and  it  is  perhaps  even  harder  to  understand  why  it 
was  that  Pheidias  and  the  other  artists  were  not  called  on  to 
erect  portrait  statues  of  the  great  leaders  of  the  war  as  were 
the  artists  of  the  Renaissance.  There  is  mention  of  a statue 
to  Miltiades,  and  this  is  all.  The  reason  becomes  clear  im- 
mediately we  consider  well  what  were  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciples of  conduct  as  taught  by  the  poets,  who  were  in  those 
days  in  large  measure  the  formulators  of  public  opinion.  Pin- 


Plate  LIV, 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


107 


dar  is  as  clear-spoken  about  this  as  need  be,  and  he  but  repeats 
what  one  finds  in  the  fragments  that  are  preserved  of  Solon’s 
writings  and  of  other  earlier  writers.  He  tells  us  that  what  is 
natural  is  best  and  that  the  deed  done  without  the  deity  is 
best  left  unspoken  (Olym.  IX),  and  again  (Nem.  I)  that 
each  of  us  has  his  special  power  and  we  must  earnestly  en- 
deavour according  as  Nature  shows  the  way.  This  is  to  be 
the  moral  of  our  action,  while  that  of  our  thought  is  that  man 
is  as  nothing  (Nem.  VI),  ephemeral  creature  naught  knowing 
what  he  is  or  what  he  may  be,  nothing  but  a mirage-dream 
(Pyth.  VIII). 

Under  the  spell  of  such  stern  teaching  as  this  it  is  no  won- 
der that  Pheidias  was  not  employed,  as  was  Michael  Angelo, 
in  depicting  for  an  inquiring  posterity  the  outer  husk  of  the 
protagonist  of  his  day.  Nor  was  it  merely  when  he  was  called 
on  to  decorate  Athens  with  his  accomplished  powers  that 
Pheidias  found  guiding  principles  of  this  stern  sort,  but  even 
in  his  other  great  work,  the  Olympian  Zeus,  he  was  governed 
in  the  same  way.  By  the  Greek,  victory  in  the  games  was  no 
more  to  be  aspired  to  without  the  help  of  the  Gods  than  was 
victory  in  battle,  and  it  was  not  praise  for  the  winner  but  grati- 
tude to  the  Gods  that  was  mete  when  Nike  laid  the  ‘golden 
crown’  upon  the  athlete’s  brow.  For  it  is  the  Gods  who,  as 
Pindar  sings,  guard  the  deep-breasted  plain  of  Sparta  and 
grant  success  in  the  great  games.  Fame  is  to  be  sought 
but  it  is  to  be  the  fame  of  honourable  deeds  (Pyth.  VIII), 
but  even  this  is  of  less  value  than  happiness  and  only  he  who 
has  won  both  has  attained  the  acme  of  bliss  (Pyth.  I). 
Such  men  are  almost  unknown,  for  the  soul  of  honour  is 
tarnished  by  lust  of  gain  (Nem.  IX).  Thus  were  the  athletes 


108 


STUDIES 


in  that  “age  of  heroic  prize-men”  taught  that  physical  power 
was  of  value,  but  only  as  it  was  a stepping-stone  to  moral 
purity.  No  portraits  of  such  youths  as  these  unless  the  Gods 
marked  them  as  their  own  with  the  triple  crown.  The  deep- 
delved  researches  of  epigraphist  and  excavator  show  us  how 
rare  was  that  event. 

Called  upon  to  embody  for  the  chosen  youth  of  Greece 
their  idea  and  image  of  the  guardian  deity  who  meted  out 
unquestioned  justice  to  their  strife,  Pheidias  had  to  depict 
as  it  were  a masculine  counterpart  to  the  Goddess  who  made 
Athens  her  own.  That  he  was  as  successful  in  the  one  task 
as  in  the  other  is  instantly  apparent  to  one  who  notes  the 
quality  of  the  praise  bestowed  upon  his  work  by  the  highly 
trained  critics  of  the  classic  period.  None  speak  of  his  figures 
as  they  do  of  Myron’s,  for  instance,  as  deceiving  the  beholder 
by  their  realism.  There  is  no  question  as  to  the  mastery  over 
the  material  as  with  Kalamis  and  Pythagoras,  — no  sugges- 
tion of  conventionalism  as  with  Polykleitos,  none  of  overre- 
finement as  with  Praxiteles,  — but  all  agree  that  his  works 
were  such  nobly  adequate  representations  of  the  divine  beings 
that  they  added  a new  glory  to  the  religion  of  which  they  were 
the  perfected  expression. 

Still  another  noteworthy  peculiarity  of  this  religion  in  its 
effect  on  his  work  remains  to  be  mentioned.  Both  he  and 
Michael  Angelo  had  at  different  times  now  mere  mortals,  now 
deities,  to  represent.  In  the  case  of  the  Attic  master  this  led 
to  a greater  unity  of  performance  than  was  possible  with  the 
Florentine.  Between  the  dwellers  on  Olympus  and  those  on 
the  broad-bosomed  Earth  there  was  to  Pheidias ’s  mind  only  a 
difference  in  degree,  whereas  to  the  believer  in  the  Roman 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


109 


doctrines  there  was  no  real  similarity  between  the  heavenly 
hosts  and  the  inhabitants  of  this  vale  of  tears;  and  where  such 
was  suggested,  it  was  so  as  a symbol,  not  as  a representation. 
To  the  Greek  the  Gods  were  merely  his  grander,  nobler,  more 
powerful  brethren,  blessed  with  the  same  virtues  and  troubled 
by  similar  faults,  differing  principally  from  the  dwellers  on 
earth  by  usually  escaping  the  results  due  to  giving  way  to 
passion.  Even  they  were  not  blessed  with  absolute  immunity 
and  freedom  of  action.  Zeus  himself  was  subject  to  Fate, 
but  in  the  main  the  Gods,  at  least  in  their  outward  form,  were 
but  more  beautiful  men  and  women.  Hence  when  called 
upon  to  carve  the  most  noble  being  whom  he  could  imagine, 
and  equally  when  carving  ideal  youths  and  maidens  on  the 
Parthenon,  he  could  only  carve  the  same  forms  he  saw  about 
him  every  day  idealised  by  his  imagination.  Whichever 
branch  of  his  art  he  followed  trained  him  for  the  other. 

That  such  conditions  and  beliefs  as  these  were  very  different 
from  those  under  which  Michael  Angelo  had  to  work  needs 
no  elaborate  exposition.  How  different  they  were  in  their 
effect  on  the  art  of  Pheidias  and  the  happiness  of  the  period 
for  such  an  artist  becomes  clearer  the  more  one  studies.  There 
is  still  another  point  to  consider,  however,  — what  might  be 
called  a more  practical  one  than  the  influences  of  religion,  and 
in  this  regard,  too,  Pheidias  was  the  more  favoured.  I refer 
to  the  political  conditions  of  the  time,  and  the  relations  of 
Pheidias  to  his  employers. 

The  lack  of  original  documents  makes  it  impossible  for  us 
to  follow  the  course  led  by  Pheidias  from  its  fortunate  rise  to 
its  unhappy  close,  but  that  in  most  ways  he  was  much  to  be 
envied  by  Michael  Angelo  cannot  be  questioned.  Athens 


110 


STUDIES 


was  at  the  height  of  her  prosperity;  freed  from  foreign  or 
internal  foes,  she  was  at  liberty  to  pursue  her  ends  as  occasion 
demanded  or  as  consideration  showed  was  best.  It  was  a 
time  of  thanksgiving  and  hope.  No  such  condition  of  govern- 
ment as  this  was  known  to  Michael  Angelo,  nor  did  his  country 
have  the  advantage  of  being  led  by  as  high-minded  a states- 
man, and  probably  as  wise  a one,  as  ever  lived.  So  long  as 
Pericles  was  leader  of  the  state,  Pheidias  was  his  friend  and 
helper.  Here  was  no  worry  for  the  artist,  no  change  of  mas- 
ter, no  blighting  of  cherished  hopes,  all  which  ills  were  suf- 
fered by  Michael  Angelo;  on  the  contrary,  existence  in  the 
midst  of  a most  highly  cultivated  community  — a community 
moved  by  a common  search  after  ideal  ends,  a community 
which  must  have  been  a constant  inspiration  to  the  sculptor 
to  equal  the  expectations  it  had  of  him.  With  the  rise  of 
mob  rule  brought  on  by  the  momentary  successes  won  by 
certain  demagogues  came  the  downfall  of  Pericles  and  in  his 
train  Pheidias.  But  his  great  work  was  finished  then.  He 
had  nothing  to  fear  when  he  laid  aside  his  chisel,  and  fortu- 
nately he  was  not  left  long  to  mourn  the  fast  vanishing  nobility 
of  his  city  and  race.  The  time  of  calm  self-confidence  had 
passed  and  the  time  of  trouble  was  threatening.  Only  a 
short  time  elapsed  before  the  tide  of  disaster  engulfed  the 
whole  country,  and  if  we  would  seek  a counterpart  to  the 
worn  and  restless  spirit  that  sometimes  appears  in  Michael 
Angelo’s  work,  we  can  find  it  in  the  later  Greek  masters  — 
even  Praxiteles  shows  traces  of  it.  But  it  is  not  mere  like- 
nesses we  are  in  search  of,  so  much  as  explanations  and  the 
clarification  of  certain  phenomena  of  art. 

The  effect  of  these  conditions  of  life  and  thought  on  Pheidias 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


111 


was  more  strong  than  on  other  sculptors  of  the  time  because  the 
greater  sensitiveness  and  impressibility  of  his  nature  rendered 
him  a more  encompassing  recipient  for  ideas  and  feelings 
than  most  of  his  contemporaries.  But  the  qualities  that  show 
in  his  work  with  especial  sharpness  are  found  diffused  through- 
out all  the  work  of  the  period,  and  there  is  one  very  noticeable 
characteristic  of  this  work  which  distinguishes  it  markedly 
from  the  work  produced  by  Michael  Angelo’s  fellow-workmen. 
It  is  the  emphasis  laid  on  youth.  Donatello,  Verrocchio, 
Desiderio  and  many  others  often  represented  youthful  figures ; 
but  the  representation  of  youth  and  early  manhood  could 
scarcely  be  said  to  distinguish  the  work  of  the  Florentine  from 
other  epochs,  yet  this  is  exactly  what  can  be  said  of  the  prod- 
uct of  the  early  Greek  and  particularly  the  Attic  School. 

Look  at  the  statues  of  youths  and  maidens,  the  never-fading 
ghosts  of  past  days,  which  the  Attic  chisel  carved  and  the 
Attic  soil  has  preserved  for  us.  Look  at  the  young  Apollos 
and  their  not  less  glorious  brethren,  the  athletes.  Look  at  the 
guardians  above  the  temple  porches  — incarnations  of  youth- 
ful vigour  even  when  the  bearded  head  or  matronly  form  give 
sign  of  elder  years.  Look  at  the  vases  “with  brede  of  marble 
men  and  maidens  overwrought.”  Finally  look  well  at  the 
statues  of  God  and  Goddess  — even  these  have  youth  eternal 
moulded  in  their  full,  strong  figures. 

And  it  is  pleasant  to  reflect  that  it  is  not  the  sculptor’s 
art  alone  which  found  satisfaction  in  thus  dwelling  on  the 
most  beautiful  forms  of  human  life,  but  the  painters  and 
the  poets  too  immortalise  the  entrancing  splendours  of  the 
youthful  form.  Greek  art  of  this  time  presents  us  with  the 
indubitable  evidence  of  a belief,  rooted  deep  as  life  itself, 


112 


STUDIES 


that  the  everlasting  joy  of  completest  beauty  was  to  be  found 
in  the  well-conditioned  body  of  youth  or  maiden.  What  a 
degradation  the  ascetic  interpretation  of  the  Holy  Writ 
brought  in  the  art  of  the  Renaissance ! Many  youthful 
figures  do  we  find  there,  but  they  were  chosen  as  much  for  the 
sake  of  the  quaintness  of  extremely  youthful  forms  as  for  the 
beauty  inherent  in  vigorous  development.  The  place  of  the 
fine-drawn,  well-groomed  figures  of  the  Greek  youths  and 
maidens  is  taken  by  jolly,  pot-bellied  babies.  Over  the  altars 
and  among  the  graves  they  scramble,  and  up  the  marble 
columns,  to  launch  themselves,  heedless  as  screaming  swal- 
lows, over  the  groined  ceiling.  From  North  to  South  and 
across  Italy  from  Sea  to  Sea  this  breed  of  fascinating  babies 
spread  — their  father  the  Church,  their  mother  the  great 
human  heart  of  the  Italian  race.  And  then,  dulling  the 
pleasant  impression  that  such  figures  make  upon  the  mind, 
we  are  met  on  all  sides  by  haggard  figures  of  men  and  women 
expressive  only  of  a bitter  ardour  to  seek  salvation  by  pain. 

The  wanness  of  Botticelli,  the  pain  and  trouble  of  Michael 
Angelo,  the  mere  ordinarily  healthy  look  of  Ghirlandaio,  these 
are  what  take  the  place  of  the  deep-breasted,  broad-shouldered, 
strong-pulsed,  magnificent  Greeks  — some  repetition  among 
these  latter,  ’tis  true,  but  marvellous  in  their  vigour  and  con- 
stancy and  impulsiveness.  Or  what  poets  can  the  Medicean 
time  show  who  sing  of  ideals  and  principles  in  the  same  full- 
throated,  calm,  incisive  way  as  Pindar  or  Sophocles  sang 
them  ? We  have  instead  a scornful  wrath  or  playful  fancy. 
The  deity  is  no  longer  friendly  but  terrible,  and  dainty  mis- 
tresses usurp  the  place  of  the  God-compelling  Aphrodite. 
The  momentary,  not  the  eternal,  is  the  interest  of  the  day. 


Plate  LV, 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


113 


Some  there  were,  Greek  in  spirit  and  in  deed:  Dante  in 
part  of  his  later  work,  so  far  as  a Catholic  could  be.  The  Vita 
Nuova  in  its  heart-broken  passion,  the  Convito  in  its  com- 
plexity, are  purely  Italian,  but  passages  of  the  Divine  Comedy 
and  the  Letters  might  be  the  work  of  one  of  the  Attic  drama- 
tists, so  intense  are  they,  so  cool,  so  assertive  of  the  power  of 
right  over  wrong.  But  an  artist  much  more  Greek  than  Dante 
and  one  who  is  often,  but  very  mistakenly,  thought  to  resemble 
Michael  Angelo,  was  Tintoretto.  His  was  a Greek  sense  of 
form,  his  was  a Greek  sense  of  beauty,  and  his  was  a com- 
pletely and  absolutely  Greek  sense  of  what  constituted  true 
portraiture.  There  were  others  too  of  this  group,  but  they 
arc  rare  and  far  between ; men  who  seem  to  have  been  born 
two  thousand  years  too  late,  or  else  just  in  time  to  save  the 
world  from  a worship  of  what  was  mentally  warped  and 
physically  unsound. 

When  one  considers  that  the  art  of  sculpture  has  found 
its  chief  employment  in  the  service  of  religion,  it  becomes 
plain  why  living  among  a people  whose  religion  led  to  asceti- 
cism, even  though  the  age  was  largely  sceptical,  Michael  Angelo 
should  impress  his  work  with  a feeling  quite  opposed  to  that 
found  in  the  works  of  Pheidias.  Scepticism  there  was  in 
ancient  Greece  too,  but  not  strong  enough  to  free  Pheidias 
entirely  from  the  bonds  of  the  religion  to  which  he  was  from 
infancy  accustomed.  Furthermore,  a scepticism  that  found 
much  fuel  for  its  flames  in  the  misconduct  of  the  Vicar  of  Christ 
and  his  less  powerful  imitators  would  have  a very  dissimilar 
effect  on  the  mind  from  that  which  was  based  on  true  mental 
development.  The  one  was  the  natural  sloughing  of  the 
skin,  the  other  the  amputation  of  a diseased  member. 


114 


STUDIES 


The  conditions  at  Rome  had  more  effect  on  the  formation 
of  character  in  those  days  than  anything  else,  and  they  can- 
not have  seemed  much  less  rotten  to  Michael  Angelo  than 
to  Hildebrand  five  hundred  years  earlier.  The  feeling  that 
Christ  was  essentially  the  man  of  sorrows,  which  affected  the 
early  artists,  had  passed  from  men’s  minds,  and  in  regard  to 
his  comeliness  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  an  artist  working 
in  a Greek  spirit ; but  employed  though  Michael  Angelo 
was  by  the  Popes,  they  used  him  by  no  means  always  on  re- 
ligious work. 

And  Michael  Angelo  also  suffered,  as  Pheidias  did  not,  from 
having  many  masters.  These  were  causes  to  destroy  any ' 
Pheidian-like  unity  in  Michael  Angelo’s  work,  but  causes 
much  more  potent  to  work  him  injury  were  the  characters  of 
the  men  for  whom  he  worked,  prince  as  well  as  Pope.  It 
was,  doubtless,  in  many  respects  fortunate  for  a young  artist 
to  have  the  freedom  of  the  court  of  Lorenzo  de’  Medici,  but 
while  Lorenzo  might  help  such  a man  as  Michael  Angelo  at 
the  beginning  of  his  career,  he  was  hardly  the  man  to  inspire 
his  more  mature  years.  At  any  rate  he  died  while  Michael 
Angelo  was  still  young,  and  thenceforth  the  latter  worked  for 
men  with  whom  he  can  have  had  but  little  sympathy.  Men  of 
great  energy  they  were,  but  with  the  exception  of  Alexander 
VI,  in  the  main  corrupt  or  stupid.  To  work  for  such  men 
under  any  circumstances  must  have  been  trying,  but  when 
one  thinks  of  their  refusal  to  allow  Michael  Angelo  to  work  as 
he  saw  fit,  one  does  not  wonder  that  at  times  he  was  nervously 
irritable. 

Obviously  such  a life  would  have  been  trying  to  a man  of 
more  ordinary  clay  than  Michael  Angelo,  but  to  him,  endowed, 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


115 


as  he  was,  with  enormous  powers  of  mental  application  and 
sensitive  as  only  poets  are,  it  must  at  times  have  been  little 
less  than  torture.  He  knew  that  the  golden  age  of  his  country 
had  passed.  He  saw  Florence  humbled  and  Rome  sacked. 
The  statesmen  were  men  of  mean  ambition  and  the  clergy 
men  of  lax  morals.  Nothing  could  stop  the  degeneration. 
Political  reformers  and  saintly  enthusiasts  had  matched  them- 
selves against  the  ever-increasing  debasement  of  Italy,  and  one 
after  another  they  had  all  been  overcome.  From  the  days  of 
the  doubtful  reforms  of  Crescentius  or  Cola  da  Rienzi  through 
the  period  of  the  passionate  recalling  of  Christ  by  Francis  of 
Assisi  to  the  time  of  bitter  invective  of  Savonarola,  reformers 
had  given  their  lives  in  the  attempt  to  save  their  beloved 
Italy  from  the  error  of  her  ways,  and  all  had  failed.  It  was 
not  a time  for  hope  but  for  sorrow,  and  it  needed  a firm  belief 
in  the  Divine  Word  to  save  one  from  despair  — or  at  least 
discontent. 

It  is  from  his  sonnets  and  letters  rather  than  from  his  sculp- 
ture that  we  can  obtain  a view  of  Michael  Angelo’s  thoughts 
and  feelings.  Not  that  the  latter  does  not  show  certain  moods 
of  the  artist  very  clearly,  but,  as  in  the  Pieta,  it  is  more  ideal 
than  personal,  more  the  expression  of  dreams  than  of  his 
actual  experience.  In  the  sonnets,  on  the  other  hand,  he  gives 
vent  to  his  own  innermost  feelings.  In  them  we  find  frequent 
expression  of  deep  despair,  but  bitterly  as  he  grieved  for  the 
death  of  Savonarola,  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  thereat  lost 
faith  in  humanity.  It  may  well  have  been  his  admiration  of 
Vittoria  Colonna  that  saved  him  from  misanthropy.  As  his 
intercourse  with  her  was  undoubtedly  the  purest  joy  and  her 
death  the  keenest  sorrow  of  his  later  years,  so  there  may  have 


116 


STUDIES 


been  some  similarly  sweetening  influence  during  the  summer 
of  his  life.  The  knowledge  of  his  career  that  we  possess  is 
great,  but  it  does  not  tell  us  this.  It  is  for  our  purposes, 
perhaps  for  all,  better  that  this  should  be  so.  At  least  it 
makes  it  easier  to  compare  him  with  Pheidias,  of  whose  life 
we  have  no  such  details  whatever. 

Such  were  some  of  the  general  conditions  affecting  the  point 
of  view  of  these  .two  men.  The  effect  they  had  on  particular 
work  becomes  evident  with  the  study  of  the  separate  monu- 
ments. One  point  is,  to  begin  with,  very  noticeable.  It  is 
that  of  the  eight  works  by  Pheidias  mentioned  distinctly 
by  ancient  writers  seven  are  representations  of  deities,  and 
the  eighth  of  an  ideal  being.  There  can  be  no  question  that 
he  made  other  works,  but  that  these  alone  were  preserved  by 
tradition  certainly  affords  safe  grounds  for  the  deduction  that 
his  genius  was  most  congenially  employed  and  most  fully 
displayed  in  such  work.  In  the  case  of  Michael  Angelo,  while 
we  know  of  work  like  the  statue  of  Julius  or  the  Battle  Cartoon 
(not  to  mention  his  youthful  efforts)  that  have  nothing  to  do 
with  religion,  yet  his  mind  also  turned  to  religious  subjects 
and  his  greatest  works  are  entirely  of  this  character. 

Curiously  enough  it  is  when  employed  on  subjects  drawn 
from  the  ancient  world  that  Michael  Angelo  is  most  unlike 
the  great  Greek.  His  Pieta,  the  Madonna  of  Bruges  (Plate 
LIII)  and  Victor  (Plate  LIV)  are  more  Pheidian  than  his 
Bacchus  (National  Museum,  Florence;  Plate  LV)  or  his  Eros 
(South  Kensington  Museum;  Plate  LVI).  These  are  Greek 
of  a kind,  but  they  are  Alexandrian  rather  than  Pheidian. 
They  are  as  foreign  to  any  conceptions  of  the  fifth  century  as 
they  are  to  those  of  the  Catholic  Church.  The  drunken, 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


117 


tottering  Bacchus  is  as  different  from  the  early  conception  of 
the  God,  who  was  thought  of  almost  more  as  the  sunshine 
that  makes  the  grape  than  as  the  juice  itself,  as  the  shrinking 
and  self-conscious  Venus  of  the  Capitol  is  from  the  Venus  of 
Cnidos.  In  his  sensuality  the  Bacchus  is  un-Pheidian  and  in 
the  humour  introduced  in  the  group  by  the  presence  of  his 
companion  he  is  equally  so.  Humour  was  not  lacking  to 
the  Athenian,  as  the  drama  shows,  but  the  fields  of  sculpture 
and  painting  were  not  considered  the  proper  place  for  its 
display. 

In  still  another  point  is  the  statue  of  Bacchus  comparable  not 
to  the  early  but  to  the  late  Greek  work,  and  that  is  in  the  realism 
of  the  modelling  and  the  action  of  the  figure.  Such  modelling 
bears  no  relation  to  the  broad  treatment  of  Pheidias.  The 
latter  shows  no  such  morbidezza,  nor  would  he  have  dwelt  on 
the  repulsive  unsteadiness  of  the  pose.  Whoever  it  was  that 
carved  the  famous  Borghese  Anacreon,  and  it  was  some  con- 
temporary of  Pheidias,  shows  us  how  the  earlier  Greek  artist 
felt  towards  drunkenness.  The  figure  is  under  the  influence 
of  his  much -sung  God  Dionysos,  but  he  is  shown  in  attitude  of 
mental  ecstasy  not  of  physical  uncontrol.  What  stamps  the 
Bacchus  and  the  Eros  (and  much  of  his  other  work)  as  non- 
Greek  is  a lack  not  exactly  of  beauty,  but  of  delicacy  and  re- 
finement, of  charm.  But  each  of  these  characteristics  that 
differentiates  Michael  Angelo’s  work  from  that  of  the  Greek 
stamps  it  as  a work  of  the  Renaissance.  The  pleasure  in 
technical  excellence,  the  realism  and  the  representation  of 
unpleasantness  are  all  qualities  that  recur  over  and  over  again 
in  the  work  of  this  vigorous,  capable,  unflinching,  unbelieving 
period. 


118 


STUDIES 


Similar  un-Pheidian  qualities  show  in  the  figure  of  Eros  in 
London,  which  if  not  by  Michael  Angelo,  is  at  least  made  en- 
tirely in  his  spirit.  The  same  realism  of  modelling  is  seen  in 
the  treatment  of  the  head  and  face,  the  same  choice  of  an 
action  inexpressive  of  the  deepest  meaning  of  the  figure.  It 
is  still  less  Pheidian  in  the  vividness  and  intentness  of  the 
action  and  expression  which  are  not  explained  by  the  figure 
itself,  but  the  meaning  of  which  is  left  to  the  imagination  of  the 
beholder  to  discover.  Dramatic  quality  of  this  sort  is  rarely 
found  in  Pheidian  work.  The  statues  carved  in  that  time 
were  self-explanatory.  Single  figures  were  often  represented 
as  intent  or  as  full  of  movement  as  the  Eros,  but  their  action 
is  not  motived  by  something  outside  themselves.  Hence 
they  do  not  puzzle  the  beholder.  The  Anacreon,  the  Dis- 
cobolus need  no  explanation,  but  Michael  Angelo’s  Eros  needs 
to  be  grouped  (at  least  in  imagination)  with  some  other  figure 
before  it  can  be  understood.  It  is  like  Myron’s  Marsyas, 
splendid  and  suggestive  but  incomplete.1  Separate  figures 
of  the  Parthenon  pediments  are  as  dramatic  as  the  Eros,  but 
then  they  form  part  of  a group  and  as  such  their  meaning  was 
perfectly  clear. 

An  instance  is  found  in  one  of  the  group  of  Gods  on  the 
eastern  end  of  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon  (Plate  LVII).  The 
figure  is  commonly  called  Ares.  He  is  seated  forward  on  his 
throne,  and  holds  one  raised  knee  between  his  clasped  hands. 
Such  an  attitude,  so  lacking  in  grandeur,  so  suggestive  of  rest- 
lessness, is  well  suited  to  the  fiery  God  of  Battles  and  shows 
how  free  and  ungoverned  by  conventions  Pheidias  could  be. 

1 The  recent  discovery  of  a life-size  marble  copy  of  the  Athena  of  the  Marsyas 
group  has  made  Myron’s  character  much  clearer  than  before.  See  Poliak  in  the 
Jahresheften  des  Oesterreichischen  Archaeologischen  Institutes,  1909,  p.  154. 


Plate  LVI 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


119 


The  group  as  a whole  is  a perfect  expression  of  the  power  of 
the  master,  to  be  simple  as  a child  in  this  treatment  of  the 
Olympians  and  yet  never  to  fail  to  produce  work  of  supreme 
beauty. 

This  simplicity  one  notices  in  all  Pheidian  work,  separat- 
ing it  sharply  from  the  later  work  in  Greece  and  from  most 
of  the  work  in  Italy,  particularly  from  that  of  Michael  Angelo. 
Pheidias  is  not  in  the  least  affected,  but  at  the  same  time  he  is 
not  actualistic.  Of  the  hundreds  of  figures  in  the  full  round 
and  in  relief  that  decorated  the  Parthenon  there  is  not  one,  nor 
even  a group,  that  does  not  seem  absolutely  and  utterly  simple 
and  real.  And  yet  there  is  not  one  of  them  which  close  study 
does  not  reveal  to  be  a marvellous  composite  of  actions  and 
forms  and  draperies  and  expressions  which  all  bear  the  stamp 
of  idealisation  (Plate  LVIII) . The  effect  of  perfection  that  the 
work  conveys  is  due  perhaps  to  Pheidias  not  having  tried  to 
idealise  in  any  vague  or  artificial  way,  but  to  his  combining  an 
absolute  dependence  on  Nature  for  his  models  with  a capacity 
of  seeing,  and  solely  representing,  their  essential  beauties.  So 
while  his  figures  are  ideal  in  the  sense  that  they  are  more 
perfect  than  average  mortals,  yet  they  do  not  seem  unap- 
proachable and  unaccountable. 

Now  this,  we  may  freely  grant,  cannot  be  said  of  Michael 
Angelo’s  work.  His  figures  are  simple,  yet  it  is  not  the  sim- 
plicity of  Nature  but  of  Art.  A passing  glance  may  find  them 
equal  to  the  Pheidian  works,  but  a more  careful  study  shows 
that  though  true  to  Nature  and  possible  in  action,  they  are, 
in  respect  to  both  body  and  attitude,  improbable.  They  are 
composed,  and  hence  in  a way  untrue.  The  Pheidian  beings 
seem  those  of  the  Golden  Age  — perfect  and  unconcerned ; 


120 


STUDIES 


while  the  others  oftentimes  seem  interested  in  their  own 
perfection  and  desirous  that  it  should  be  admired.  One  knows 
enough  of  Michael  Angelo  to  know  that  though  self-conscious, 
such  thoughts  were  far  from  his  mind  and  if,  as  I think,  they 
are  to  be  seen  in  his  work,  it  only  shows  that  the  time  was 
stronger  than  the  man,  for  he  lived  in  a period  when  affecta- 
tion was  not  uncommon.  The  grandeur  of  the  Greek  figures, 
as  manifest  in  figurines  as  in  colossal  works,  is  due  to  the 
beauty  dependent  on  a mental  poise ; that  of  the  Florentine 
figures  is  due  to  their  size  and  suggestion  of  physical  strength 
and  to  their  facial  and  bodily  expression  that  imply  the  capac- 
ity of  untold  depths  of  passion  — quite  as  physical  a con- 
sideration as  that  of  size. 

Of  course  it  may  be  said  that  the  Eros  is  merely  a study  of 
the  human  frame  in  a rather  complicated  position,  but  even  so, 
my  contention  that  the  figure  is  un-Pheidian  still  remains 
true. 

The  strength  of  the  action  exhibited  by  this  figure  of  Eros, 
the  tremendous  play  of  muscle  while  at  the  same  time  the 
figure  is  thought  of  not  as  in  motion  but  as  at  rest,  is  what  one 
finds  in  very  many  figures  painted  and  carved  by  Michael 
Angelo  and  forms  one  of  the  most  distinctive  characteristics 
of  his  work.  It  shows  in  the  Slaves,  in  the  Medici  figures, 
in  some  of  the  sacred  groups,  in  lesser  measure  but  yet  dis- 
tinctly in  the  David  and  Moses,  and  as  clearly  as  possible  in 
the  paintings  of  the  Sistine  Chapel.  It  is  due  to  this  in  large 
degree  that  these  works  are  so  well  known,  for  they  strike  the 
eye  of  the  casual  and  impatient  sightseer  and  they  are  re- 
membered with  much  greater  vividness  than  work  of  a quieter 
and  less  excited  character.  In  the  hands  of  a genius  like 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


121 


Michael  Angelo  such  treatment  of  the  human  figure,  and  the 
choice  of  such  positions,  seem  natural  and  give  no  sense  of 
exaggeration  or  restlessness. 

It  is  commonly  held  that  genius  is  limited  by  no  law,  and  in 
so  far  as  is  meant  thereby  to  imply  that  no  bounds  can  be  set 
to  the  concepts  of  great  minds,  this  is  true;  in  the  attempt  to 
express  such  concepts  to  others,  however,  the  genius  equally 
with  less  endowed  mortals  must  be  limited  by  the  laws  that 
govern  the  material  in  which  he  seeks  to  find  expression. 
The  penetration  of  a Sophocles  or  a Shakespeare  into  the 
mysteries  of  life  can  have  no  measure  set  to  it,  but  when  they 
tell  us  their  thoughts,  their  words  are  bound  by  the  laws  of 
verse.  No  final  explanation  can  be  given  for  the  teeming 
imagination  of  Michael  Angelo,  but  some  of  his  works  may 
be  criticised  for  not  conforming  to  the  laws  of  space  or 
material  that  govern  the  arts  of  painting  and  sculpture.  He 
sometimes  shows  a lack  of  taste. 

Genius  shows  in  every  touch  of  Michael  Angelo’s  hand, 
whether  with  brush  or  chisel,  but  at  times  his  work  is  un- 
satisfactory owing  to  its  exaggeration.  No  admiration  is  too 
great  for  specific  qualities  in  everything  he  did,  but  it  is  clear 
that  the  conception  of  beauty  was  not  held  by  him  as  essen- 
tial. To  Pheidias,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  of  primal  im- 
portance. 

A comparison  of  the  Parthenon  pediments  with  the  ceiling 
of  the  Sistine  Chapel  may  make  clear  my  meaning.  This 
is  not  the  place  for  fine  analysis  of  either  composition.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  in  each  case  the  space  has  been  filled  by  the 
decoration  with  a perfection  and  adequacy  that  has  never 
been  again  approached,  but  I think  it  will  be  generally  ad- 


U2 


STUDIES 


mitted  that  the  chief  impression  of  the  pediments,  shattered 
though  they  are,  is  of  beauty,  while  that  of  the  ceiling  is  of 
power.  Michael  Angelo  tried  at  times  to  express  in  paint  and 
stone  what  cannot  be  clearly  expressed  in  those  substances. 
This  was  what  I have  referred  to  as  lack  of  taste.  His  Last 
Judgment  is  a striking  case  in  point.  He  attempted  in  that 
work  to  do  what  Milton  or  Dante  succeeded  in  doing  better 
with  more  suitable  means.  Even  the  Chief  Actor  in  the  scene 
lacked  the  quality  of  grandeur  which  Michael  Angelo  seems 
usually  to  have  found  no  difficulty  in  suggesting.  It  is  per- 
haps because  he  felt  the  inadequacy  of  stone  or  paint  for  the 
full  expression  of  his  ideas  that  he  left  so  many  works  uncom- 
pleted. 

Michael  Angelo’s  figures  of  Night  and  Dawn  and  certain 
figures  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  may  be  criticised  for  the  exag- 
geration of  their  pose,  though  how  extraordinarily  successful 
they  are  can  be  seen  by  comparing  them  with  similar  figures 
by  Vasari  or  other  imitators  of  the  master,  which  invariably 
appear  to  be  insecure  and  in  danger  of  falling.  The  difference 
in  the  kind  of  imitators  who  followed  Pheidias,  and  those  who 
succeeded  Michael  Angelo,  shows  well  one  difference  in  their 
genius  and  the  effect  on  art  in  general  that  the  two  men  had. 

Both  men  had  numerous  pupils  and  followers,  but  in  the 
earlier  time  such  men  served  to  keep  Greek  sculpture  at  its 
highest  level,  in  the  later  they  brought  on  a rapid  degradation 
of  the  art  in  Italy.  The  reason  for  this  different  result  is 
plain.  Just  as  most  people  now  see  nothing  in  Michael 
Angelo’s  work  but  strongly  modelled  figures  and  vigorous 
poses,  not  knowing  enough  of  his  life  to  comprehend  what 
were  the  thoughts  he  desired  to  express,  so  the  artists  in  his 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


123 


own  day  thought  the  magnificence  of  his  work  lay  in  its 
exterior  form.  Imitating  this  they  succeeded  in  producing 
only  figures  with  unnaturally  protuberant  muscles  placed  in 
uncomfortably  contorted  positions.  Vasari  and  Bandinelli 
are  two  instances  in  point.  The  painted  figures  of  the  former 
are  as  foolish  in  their  assertion  of  would-be  grandeur  as  is 
possible  to  conceive,  and  there  are  few  things  uglier  or  coarser 
than  the  group  of  Hercules  and  Cacus  by  the  latter. 

In  Michael  Angelo  this  insistence  on  the  muscular  develop- 
ment of  figures  is  an  accident  perhaps  due  to  his  delight  (a 
pure  Greek  delight)  in  mere  physical  strength,  such  as  he 
himself  possessed,  but  it  is  not  the  most  telling  characteristic 
of  his  work.  The  truly  essential  part  of  his  work  is  the  thought 
which  his  figures  embody.  His  followers,  being  men  of  little 
originality,  as  is  shown  by  their  trying  to  assume  his  pecul- 
iarities, naturally  succeeded  not  in  making  work  like  his,  but 
work  which  in  reality  serves  to  show  their  dissimilarity  to 
their  master.  It  was  unfortunate,  also,  that  the  very  quali- 
ties which  attracted  them  were  of  a nature  that  if  misunder- 
stood lead  to  a more  rapid  debasement  of  art  and  life  than 
almost  any  other,  for  a love  of  mere  physical  strength  is  a 
love  of  what  allies  one  to  the  beasts  of  the  field.  Their  work 
unites  them  not  so  much  to  Michael  Angelo  as  to  the  maker 
of  what  (with  the  exception  of  the  Laoc-oon)  is  probably  the 
ugliest  and  most  brutal  work  preserved  to  us  from  antiquity 
— the  Farnese  Hercules. 

All  this  was  very  different  in  the  case  of  Pheidias  and  his 
school.  In  his  work  there  was  nothing  superficial  to  catch 
the  eye,  no  peculiarity  except  the  perfection  and  beauty  that 
one  feels  instantly  and  yet  cannot,  without  much  care, 


124 


STUDIES 


explain  on  what  it  depends.  What  was  there  then  for  other 
artists  to  do  if  they  felt  his  was  perfect  sculpture  and  they  de- 
sired to  work  towards  it  ? His  figures  were  calm  and  stately. 
His  greatness  lay  in  his  conception  of  the  being  he  was  called 
upon  to  represent  — in  his  point  of  view,  that  is.  This  showed 
itself  not  in  a technical  skill  superior  to  that  of  his  fellow- 
workers,  for  the  artists  then  as  in  the  Renaissance  were  in  the 
main  equally  skilful,  but  in  a mass  of  infinitesimal  details 
which  not  so  much  by  themselves  separately  as  by  their  com- 
bination gave  his  work  its  everlasting  charm.  It  would  not 
have  taken  a quick-witted  Greek  long  to  realise  that  to  pro- 
duce Pheidian  works  he  must  look  at  life  in  a Pheidian  way, 
and  the  more  successful  his  imitations  the  more  calm,  re- 
strained and  careful  would  they  be.  This  Pheidian  point  of 
view  was  such  that  his  followers  were  turned  toward  spiritual 
repose  as  the  source  of  inspiration  for  their  works  rather  than 
toward  restless  activity. 

The  complexity  of  the  attitudes  of  Michael  Angelo’s  figures 
is  scarcely  more  noticeable  than  the  multiplicity  of  the  sub- 
jects he  was  called  upon  to  produce.  Life  was  more  compli- 
cated in  his  day  than  in  that  of  Pheidias,  and  there  were  more 
varied  demands  made  upon  the  artist  than  in  the  ancient 
times.  While  Pheidias,  so  far  as  we  know,  had  to  make  works 
solely  for  the  state  or  for  some  public  purpose,  Michael  Angelo 
was  forced  to  gratify  the  whim  of  various  powerful  employers. 
Oftentimes  such  work,  as  for  instance  the  Sistine  Chapel,  was 
of  public  character,  but  more  often  it  was  not,  so  that  in  place 
of  striving  to  embody  the  ideals  of  the  state  whose  greatest 
artist  he  was,  he  had  to  bend  and  mould  his  genius  to  satisfy 
the  personal  ambitions  of  his  masters.  The  story  of  the 


126 


STUDIES 


art.  This  was  not  the  condition  of  things  in  the  Renaissance, 
nor,  so  far  as  the  little  evidence  we  have  allows  us  to  judge,  in 
Greece.  It  created  no  surprise  when  Van  Eyck  and  Rubens 
were  considered  as  proper  persons  to  be  entrusted  with  affairs 
of  state,  nor  when  the  military  protection  of  his  city  was  put 
into  the  hands  of  Michael  Angelo,  nor  when  Leonardo  laid  out 
the  irrigation  system  of  Lombardy.  Life  is  more  complicated 
now  and  in  many  lines  work  has  to  be  more  specialised  — but 
this  is  no  reason  why  artists  should  be  stupid. 

The  fact  that  the  talents  required  for  painting  and  sculpture 
are  not  incompatible  is  clearly  shown  by  Michael  Angelo’s 
works.  The  most  common  criticism  passed  on  them,  and  one 
that  is  in  part  true,  is  that  his  sculptures  are  at  times  too  pic- 
torial while  at  others  his  paintings  are  too  sculptural.  Certain 
it  is  that  parts  of  the  ceiling  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  look,  at 
first  sight,  more  like  sculptured  figures  than  like  painted 
decorations.  Michael  Angelo  was  unquestionably  aware  of 
this,  and  the  effect  was  intentionally  sought  by  him.  To  state 
as  a rule  of  art  that  work  on  the  flat  should  always  look  flat 
is  a mistake.  There  is  no  law  of  optics  or  of  architecture 
which  demands  this. 

The  application  of  the  laws  of  art  must  depend  on  the 
individual  practitioner.1  In  treating  the  figures  in  the  Sistine 
Chapel  in  a sculpturesque  way  Michael  Angelo  produced 
a work  more  like  the  Parthenon  in  the  perfection  with  which 
the  decoration  is  adapted  to  its  position  than  is  elsewhere  to 

1 The  modern  theory  that  wall  paintings  should  be  flat,  that  they  should  not  give 
the  impression  of  an  opening  beyond  the  wall  they  are  on,  is  contradicted  by  all  the 
practice  of  the  Renaissance.  Lippi,  Gozzoli,  Leonardo,  Raphael,  Michael  Angelo, 
Veronese,  Correggio,  to  recall  but  a few,  all  used  wall  painting  as  a means  of  sug- 
gesting larger  dimensions  and  more  ample  space  than  the  rooms  they  decorated 
actually  afforded. 


Plate  LVIII 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


127 


be  seen.  He  has  used  painting,  that  is  to  say,  in  much  of  his 
design  to  suggest  sculpture,  which  is  the  richer  and  more 
suitable  adjunct  to  most  parts  of  architecture,1  and  thereby 
produced  a complex  architectural  work  instead  of  producing 
merely  a painting  which,  like  many  of  those  in  Venice,  might 
equally  well  be  placed  anywhere  else. 

A comparison  will  make  the  point  plain.  Take  most  mod- 
ern decoration  of  a similar  sort  and  how  infinitely  feeble  and 
accidental  it  seems ! Look  at  the  decorations  of  the  Pantheon 
in  Paris,  of  the  Boston  Public  Library,  and  the  difference  may 
be  seen.  Great  painting  one  may  see  there,  but  not  great 
decoration  of  architectural  works ; and  ceiling  or  wall  paint- 
ings are  nothing  else.  Any  one  of  these  paintings  taken  from 
its  present  position  would  look  equally  well  on  any  other  wall 
large  enough  to  hold  it,  or  in  any  gallery,  and  would  also  have 
equal  meaning  there.  Not  so  Michael  Angelo’s  work.  As 
a whole  it  could  be  put  nowhere  except  where  it  is,  and  if  cut 
in  pieces  each  bit  would  cry  out  in  its  solitude  and  demand  the 
juxtaposition  of  the  other  parts.  The  work  is  as  perfect  a 
finishing  of  the  Chapel  as  though  it  were  some  natural  growth. 
This  is  equally  true  of  the  sculptures  of  the  Parthenon.  How 
inconsequent  and  unmeaning  they  look  when  taken  from  their 
natural  place  is  shown  in  the  British  Museum  by  the  Athe- 
naeum Club  and  Hyde  Park  Gate  in  London. 

Michael  Angelo’s  other  paintings  also  have  a sculpturesque 
look.  This  is  partly  due  to  the  fact  that  the  foreground, 
where  atmosphere  has  little  effect,  is  more  studied  than  the 
background.  To  him  as  to  Pheidias  the  human  figure  was 

1 To  illustrate  by  an  example : the  low  relief  work  of  the  Tempietto  at  Rimini 
is  a more  perfect  form  of  decoration  (partly  because  of  its  permanency)  than 
painting  would  have  been. 


128 


STUDIES 


of  the  deepest  interest,  but  its  natural  surroundings  of  little 
or  none,  so  the  figures  are  drawn  with  a distinctness  and 
illumined  with  an  intensity  of  light  which  make  them  look 
more  solid  and  material  than  many  a painter’s  work.  It 
does  not  mean  that  Michael  Angelo  failed  to  understand  the 
function  of  painting  as  a Fine  Art.  The  true  function  of  art 
is  the  presentation  of  the  ideal  and  this  is  done  by  the  transla- 
tion of  emotion.  This  translation  of  emotion,  when  accom- 
plished with  the  motive  of  giving  pleasure  by  pleasing  the 
senses  or  elevating  the  mind,  produces  the  noblest  art,  for  this 
search  for  pleasure  is  in  healthy  minds  but  the  search  for 
beauty,  and  beauty  is  the  suggestion  of  the  ideal.  This  being 
the  general  function  of  Art  each  one  of  the  Fine  Arts  follows  in 
ways  individual  to  itself  the  search  after  beauty  in  the  trans- 
lation of  emotion.  Music  is  the  most  subtle  and  architecture 
is  the  most  general  of  the  arts,  and  poetry  the  most  commonly 
understood,  while  painting  and  sculpture,  the  terms  of  which 
are  hardest  to  define,  are  the  most  closely  related.  As  an  art 
architecture  is  an  expression  of  man  as  a social  animal.  Paint- 
ing and  sculpture  are  its  proper  adjuncts.  Painting  ought 
to  be  merely  the  representation  by  colour  of  three  dimensional 
spaces  in  two  dimensions,  while  sculpture  should  attempt 
nothing  but  the  rendering  of  forms  in  full  or  partial  relief. 
Each  art  per  se  has  special  powers,  but  when  used  as  a detail 
of  work  of  another  kind,  its  peculiarities  must  then  be  sup- 
pressed till  it  is  in  accord  with  the  work  of  which  it  is  a portion 
or  detail. 

Now  this  is  exactly  what  Michael  Angelo  accomplished.  It 
is  natural  for  painting,  since  it  cannot  represent  figures  in  the 
round,  to  lay  most  emphasis  on  the  face,  but  when  it  is  used 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


129 


to  ornament  the  separate  parts  of  an  architectural  work,  it 
must  generalise  its  own  peculiarities  and  use  them  to  enrich 
the  architectural  scheme.  For  in  so  far  as  painting  thus  used 
impresses  the  beholder  with  its  excellence  as  painting,  by  just 
so  far  has  the  architecture  become  a frame  for  the  painting 
and  the  painting  failed  to  be  a glory  added  to  the  architecture. 
Michael  Angelo  was  a great  enough  genius  to  be  able  to  use 
painting  perfectly  as  an  additional  splendour  to  his  architec- 
ture. 

You  do  not  think  of  the  figures  or  pictures  on  the  Si  stine 
ceiling  as  separate  works  — - in  large  measure  the  composition 
is  such  that  you  cannot  — so  much  as  the  finishing  ornament 
of  the  Chapel.  This  is  because  the  artist  did  not  put  the 
greatest  amount  of  expression  into  the  faces,  it  permeates 
equally  the  whole  body.  Thus  these  grand  creatures  look  like 
sculpture,  which  is  in  fact,  as  more  similar  in  its  permanence 
to  architecture,  the  noblest  means  of  decorating  a building. 
Ceilings  cannot,  it  is  true,  be  covered  with  carved  figures,  and 
great  care  should  be  chosen  in  the  scenes  depicted  on  them,  for 
they  do  not  offer  a suitable  position  in  which  to  hang  pictures 
that  are  primarily  conceived  as  pictures.  This  was  a common 
mistake  of  the  Venetians,  who  covered  the  ceilings  of  the  Ducal 
Palace,  Santa  Maria  del’  Orto  and  countless  other  buildings 
with  elaborate  paintings  of  subjects  that  have  no  architec- 
tural significance  and  cannot  be  thought  of  as  scenes  taking 
place  in  the  heavens.  They  are  in  fact  large  easel  pictures 
and  as  such  would  be  better  seen  if  hung  upright  on  the  wall 
than  in  their  present  position. 

In  the  Sistine  Chapel  Michael  Angelo  showed  his  complete 
understanding  of  painting  as  an  ornament  and  finish  to  ar- 


130 


STUDIES 


chitecture,  and  in  his  easel  paintings  he  manifests,  if  not  as 
complex  effects  as  some  painters,  at  least  as  full  a knowledge 
of  what  constitutes  painting,  from  its  roots  of  drawing  and 
composition  to  the  full  blossom  of  colour  and  expression. 
Perhaps  the  most  marked  peculiarity  of  his  paintings  is  the 
lack  of  complex  backgrounds  of  any  sort,  whether  of  land- 
scape, or  drapery,  or  architecture.  This  again  allies  him  to 
the  Greeks,  not  to  those  of  any  one  age  in  especial,  but  to  all, 
for  the  most  marked  difference  (leaving  the  less  important 
matters  of  medium  and  technique  aside)  between  their  paint- 
ings and  those  of  modern  times  is,  that  they  did  not  consider 
backgrounds  as  a part  to  be  treated  with  much  elaboration 
or  care. 

The  Greek  painter,  we  know,  presented  his  scene  with  only 
enough  suggestion  of  the  surroundings  in  which  the  figures 
stood  for  the  beholder  to  understand  the  general  character  of 
the  spot  where  the  action  was  taking  place.  He  lavished  his 
care  on  the  figures,  and  did  nothing  to  distract  the  full  atten- 
tion of  the  beholder  from  them.  Michael  Angelo  did  the  same. 
In  so  far  as  he  rivets  your  whole  attention  to  the  figures  on 
the  canvas,  his  painting  is  sculpturesque,  but  this  word  cannot 
be  applied  to  his  work  in  the  sense  that  he  was  ignorant  of 
the  principles  of  painting  as  an  art  of  expression.  That  in 
his  painting  as  in  his  sculpture  he  tended  to  overstep  what  are 
generally  considered  the  proper  limits  of  the  art  is  true,  but 
this  was  due  rather  to  great  knowledge  than  to  any  imperfect 
understanding.  At  such  times  he  was  striking  out  into  the 
unknown  realms  of  discovery  and  searching  for  new  possibili- 
ties for  the  arts  of  which  he  was  the  most  accomplished  master 
of  the  time. 


Plate  LIX 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


131 


I have  tried  to  show  how  the  general  beliefs  and  ideals  of 
the  people  among  whom  they  lived  would  have  tended  to  dif- 
ferentiate these  two  artists  one  from  the  other  in  certain  ways 
and  to  ally  them  in  certain  others.  But  different  or  similar, 
can  it  be  said  of  either  : this  one  is  the  greater  ? I think  not, 
even  though  one  recognises  that  Michael  Angelo  certainly 
gave  more  varied  expression  to  his  genius.  Neither  of  them 
shows  a more  complete  understanding  of  the  arts,  or  embodies 
a fuller  realisation  of  the  ideal  in  his  figures,  than  the  other. 

Take  for  example  Pheidias’s  statues  of  Athena  and  Michael 
Angelo’s  of  the  Madonna.  No  artist  could  express  all  each 
of  these  beings  suggests  in  one  figure,  but  it  would  be  a hard  task 
to  find  anything  that  they  did  not  show  in  one  or  the  other 
of  their  several  presentations.  We  know  with  considerable 
accuracy  what  was  the  grandeur  of  the  Athena  Parthenos,  the 
guardian  of  her  chosen  people,  and  we  also  know  the  divine 
rage  felt  by  Athena  the  warrior  Goddess  driving  Poseidon 
from  the  sacred  citadel ; and  finally  we  know  by  literary  and 
probably  by  ocular  evidence  with  what  consummate  grace 
Pheidias  represented  Athena  the  ideal  of  Attic  maidenhood. 
There  are  many  other  statues  of  the  Goddess  by  other  artists 
and  from  other  periods  but  none  I believe  that  add  to  the 
realisation  these  three  give  us  of  what  Athena  was  to  the 
Athenians. 

In  the  same  way  Michael  Angelo  shows  us  the  feeling  of 
his  time  towards  the  Virgin.  In  the  figure  at  Bruges  we  see 
the  youthful  figure  — the  Virgin  of  the  Visitation.  In  the 
partially  finished  group  in  Florence  there  is  more  trouble  in 
the  face,  the  feeling  expressed  in  the  words  “behold,  thy 
father  and  I have  sought  thee  sorrowing”  and  “they  under- 


132 


STUDIES 


stood  not  the  saying  that  he  spake  unto  them”  (Plate  LIX). 
In  the  Pieta  in  St.  Peter’s  her  heart  is  numb  with  grief  — the 
flood  of  sorrow  that  has  whelmed  her  is 

“Such  a tide  as  moving  seems  asleep. 

Too  full  for  sound  or  foam, 

When  that  which  draws  from  out  the  boundless  deep 
Turns  again  home.” 

Her  figure  as  shown  us  by  other  lesser  men  seems  trivial  or 
incomplete  when  these  are  remembered. 

If  one  considers  the  larger  undertakings  of  the  two  men, 
the  Parthenon  and  the  Sistine  Chapel,  one  cannot  say  that 
either  surpasses  the  other,  though  one  can  say  with  absolute 
security  that  neither  has  ever  been  approached.  In  these 
works  they  show  themselves  the  masters  of  all  craftsmen. 
Note  the  way  in  which  the  composition  of  the  Parthenon 
groups  suits  the  long,  low  triangular  space  in  which  they  are 
placed,  each  group,  taken  as  a whole,  being  made  up  of  nu- 
merous lesser  groups  which  are  quite  perfect  by  themselves  and 
so  interwoven  by  means  of  upraised  arms  or  turned  bodies  or 
bits  of  floating  drapery,  that  it  is  only  after  careful  observa- 
tion that  one  sees  how  the  artist  made  various  parts  unite 
into  one  perfect  whole.  It  is  the  acme  of  architectural  sculp- 
ture. It  seems  simple,  but  one  searches  in  vain  among  the 
pediment  groups  that  have  been  made  since  for  one  that  can 
approach  it  even  distantly  in  merit.  It  is  this  same  inter- 
twining of  simple,  unforced  separate  parts  into  one  grand, 
living  completeness  that  marks  out  the  ceiling  of  the  Sistine 
Chapel  as  a thing  apart  and  unequalled. 

To  compare  the  more  private,  perhaps  more  personal  works, 
of  the  two  men  is  impossible,  for  the  reason  that  nothing  of 


PHEIDIAS  AND  MICHAEL  ANGELO 


133 


this  sort  made  by  Pheidias  has  been  preserved  for  us.  There 
are  a few  such  by  Michael  Angelo,  some  from  his  earliest  years, 
as  the  Battle  of  the  Centaurs,  others  like  the  David  or  perhaps 
the  Eros.  From  these  we  get  a suggestion  regarding  the  ideas 
which  Michael  Angelo  thought  were  to  be  expressed  by  sculp- 
ture. The  bas-relief  showing  the  Battle  of  the  Centaurs  can, 
however,  scarcely  be  taken  into  consideration,  for  it  is  a work 
of  his  mere  boyhood  and  shows  little  except  unusual  power 
for  a youth  and  an  interest,  which  apparently  did  not  last, 
in  subjects  drawn  from  ancient  art.  The  man’s  unconven- 
tional and  powerful  nature  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  in  his 
mature  years  he  did  not  ever,  as  most  contemporary  painters 
and  sculptors  did,  try  to  copy  the  antique  in  any  way.  His 
own  mind  was  too  active  for  him  to  adopt  either  the  subjects 
or  modes  of  other  men’s  work.  So,  too,  in  the  case  of  Pheidias, 
his  work  does  not  suggest  that  of  any  predecessor,  but  in  later 
periods  of  Greek  sculpture  the  figures  which  hark  back  in 
some  way  to  Pheidian  originals  are  innumerable. 

In  the  David,  in  the  figures  in  the  Medici  Chapel  and  those 
for  the  Julian  tomb  one  sees  the  same  strained  look : physi- 
cal calm  and  great  strength  combined  with  a marked  expres- 
sion of  mental  restlessness  and  trouble,  undoubtedly  signifi- 
cant of  Michael  Angelo’s  own  feeling  of  weariness  and 
of  the  ‘powerful  trouble’  that  beset  the  world.  Pheidias 
came  just  at  the  acme  of  a great  period.  Michael  Angelo,  on 
the  other  hand,  felt  that  the  light  in  the  sky  was  that  of  the 
waning  day,  not  of  the  sunrise.  His  figures  are  sad ; those  by 
Pheidias  are  quiet  and  peaceful.  Society  and  the  artist  were 
in  harmony  in  the  case  of  the  Greek;  they  were  not  in  accord 
in  the  case  of  the  Florentine. 


134 


STUDIES 


Every  point  we  study  brings  us  to  the  same  conclusion,  that 
while  each  of  these  men  was  the  supreme  master  of  his  time 
and  of  incomparable  capacity,  Pheidias  had  less  to  struggle 
against  than  Michael  Angelo ; and  through  being  able  to  carry 
out  his  ideas  unhampered,  he  had  a better  effect  on  his  fol- 
lowers than  Michael  Angelo,  whose  works  are  in  the  main 
monuments  of  thwarted  purpose.  Each  sought  unceasingly 
to  embody  in  his  work  ideals  of  beauty  beyond  the  influence 
of  contemporary  events.  In  the  one  case  this  was  possible, 
in  the  other  not.  To  the  Greek,  contemporaneity  was  nothing, 
to  the  Italian,  it  was  all.  Where  Pheidias  was  called  on  to 
decorate  the  chief  public  building  of  Athens  with  scenes  of 
war  which  were  known  only  by  popular  tradition  and  which 
were  instinct  with  poetry,  Michael  Angelo  had  to  depict  a 
battle  that  was  a mere  incident  of  border  warfare.  Each  of 
these  men,  however,  enriched  the  world  with  works  that  are 
unsurpassed,  and  similar  work  will  never  again  be  accom- 
plished. 

With  the  passing  of  the  Greek  world  passed  the  ideals 
that  inspired  Pheidias.  Others  came  and  faded  away  again 
with  Michael  Angelo.  Their  works  are  immortal  in  the  sense 
that  in  their  kind  they  cannot  be  superseded.  But  the  arts 
themselves  are  not  immortal,  for  this  would  mean  that  they 
could  not  advance  and  develop.  It  is  in  this  power  of  growth 
and  change  and  adaptation  that  art  is  allied  to  science,  and  we 
turn  to  the  most  recent  exponent  of  either  with  the  incom- 
mensurable hope  that  he  may  have  found  the  master  key  to 
beautiful  new  worlds. 


III.  A HEAD  OF  ATHENA  FROM  CYRENE 


In  the  first,  and,  as  it  was  destined  to  be,  the  last  report 
on  the  excavations  by  the  Archaeological  Institute  of  America 
at  Gyrene,1 1 published  a marble  head  of  Athena  which  we  found 
a few  inches  below  the  surface  on  the  top  of  the  Acropolis. 

The  spot  where  it  was  found  afforded  no  clew  to  its  origin. 
It  came  to  light  in  a small  room  constructed  probably  in  the 
later  Ptolemaic  times,  and  had  obviously  fallen  and  been  lost 
to  sight,  by  one  of  those  inexplicable  accidents  familiar  to  all 
excavators,  on  the  spot  where  our  picks  discovered  it.  No 
temple  stood  near ; no  trace  of  pedestal  could  be  found  and 
no  other  fragment  of  marble  came  from  the  torn  covering 
of  protecting  earth  to  help  answer  the  eager  questioning 
the  quiet  face  aroused.  Except  for  a flake  off  the  hair,  the 
tip  of  the  helmet  projecting  over  the  brow,  the  edge  of  one 
ear  and  the  point  of  the  nose,  the  marble  was  as  fresh  as  the 
day  the  figure  was  first  unveiled  to  the  worshipping  multitude. 
(Plates  LX,  LXI.) 

The  perfect  head  alone  is  left  us  to  solve  the  riddles  the  ar- 
chaeologist and  artist  may  ask.  Doubtless  when  in  the  on- 
coming years  the  Italians  have  the  satisfaction  of  finishing 
the  work  which  we  inaugurated  and  made  possible,  further 
discoveries  will  dispel  whatever  doubts  now  harass  our  minds, 

1 In  the  Bulletin  of  the  Archaeological  Institute  of  America,  Vol.  II  (1910-11), 
Plates  47  and  79,  and  p.  162. 


135 


136 


STUDIES 


and  students,  forgetful  of  the  time  and  circumstances  under 
which  we  wrought,  will  wonder  why  we  hesitated,  why  we  did 
not  see,  why  the  closed  lips  did  not  speak  to  us  with  as  clear 
a note  as  to  them.  Doubtless,  but  still  it  seems  likely  that 
many  years  must  elapse  before  others  will  be  able  to  finish 
our  work,  and  in  the  meantime  it  is  well  to  bring  this  lovely 
bit  of  sculptor’s  art  more  adequately  to  the  attention  of  stu- 
dents than  seemed  wise  before  the  hope  of  continuing  the 
excavation  was  blighted  by  the  careless  hand  of  war. 

Before  studying  the  special  characteristics  of  this  head  of 
Athena  and  showing  how,  notwithstanding  the  very  numerous 
representations  of  the  warrior  Goddess  which  we  possess,  it  is 
entirely  individual  and  unlike  any  other,  we  may  do  well  to 
recall  certain  facts  regarding  Cyrene  as  a centre  of  Greek  life 
and  thought,  facts  that  are  not  open  to  question,  being  proved 
by  historical  and  other  positive  evidence.  The  accounts 
given  by  the  ancient  historians  and  poets  of  the  foundation 
and  rapid  rise  to  wealth  of  Cyrene  were  sufficient  to  make  us 
certain  that  the  archaeologist’s  spade  would  find  in  plenty 
those  beautiful  monuments  of  a long-since  vanished  spirit 
which  make  the  work  of  the  excavator  on  Greek  soil  so  en- 
trancing and  satisfying. 

Even  at  inaccessible  Cyrene,  however,  we  were  not  the 
first.  In  the  early  sixties  of  the  last  century,  Smith  and 
Porcher,  two  fine  examples  of  men  of  English  breadth  of 
view  combined  with  well-trained  and  persistent  capacity, 
had  brought  to  light  a considerable  number  of  bits  of  sculp- 
ture which  showed  clearly  that  Cyrene,  like  every  other 
Greek  city,  had  once  been  a kindly  nurse  to  artists.  True 
though  it  be  that  these  broken  fragments  now  sheltered  in  the 


Plate  LX, 


CYRENE  ATHENA 


137 


British  Museum  were,  with  the  exception  of  a magnificent 
bronze  head,  of  second-rate  quality,  still  they  dispelled  all 
doubt  regarding  one  very  important  point;  that  is,  they  showed 
that  at  Cyrene  itself  there  were  large  numbers  of  sculptors 
whose  technical  skill  was  of  a high  order.  That  there  were 
numerous  sculptors  was  proved  by  the  fact  that  the  works 
found  by  Smith  and  Porcher  embraced  a long  stretch  of 
years. 

At  first  sight  this  fact  may  appear  little  noteworthy,  and 
its  bearing  on  our  Athena  head  may  not  be  perceived.  It 
takes  on  a fresh  aspect,  however,  when  we  realise  that  there 
is  no  marble  to  be  found  within  hundreds  of  miles  of  Cy- 
rene, and,  in  consequence,  the  stone  must  have  been  im- 
ported to  the  city.  It  might  be  suggested  that  not  the 
marble  but  the  finished  carvings  were  imported,  as  we  know 
from  literary  evidence  was  sometimes  done  in  other  parts  of 
the  Greek  world.  Had  the  English  and  ourselves  found  only 
one  or  two  examples  of  supreme  merit,  this  theory  might  be 
tenable.  No  one,  however,  will  attempt  to  uphold  it  in  the 
face  of  the  numerous  busts,  statues,  bas-reliefs,  grave  monu- 
ments and  inscriptions,  many  of  which  are  of  very  little 
importance,  which  were  dug  up  by  the  Englishmen  and  our- 
selves. Portrait  busts  alone  show  that  Cyrene  had  her  own 
sculptors  who,  even  though  they  lacked  the  advantage  their 
confreres  of  many  Greek  cities  had  in  near-by  quarries,  man- 
aged to  overcome  the  difficulties  Nature  put  in  their  way  and 
struggled  to  a mastery  of  their  chosen  art.  The  bearing  of 
this  on  the  Athena  will  become  manifest  as  we  go  further  into 
the  study  of  the  subject. 

If  only  another  Pausanias,  one  might  suggest,  had  gone  sight- 


138 


STUDIES 


seeing  and  note-taking  along  the  surprising  shores  of  Libya, 
our  work  of  interpretation  had  been  far  simpler.  But  though 
we  are  not  helped  by  such  written  evidence,  we  can  still  dis- 
cover the  essential  qualities  and  meanings  of  these  sculptures, 
and  the  diggers  who  in  years  to  come  drive  our  trenches  deeper 
into  the  ground  will  find  nothing  more  unexpected  than  the 
Athena,  for  she  is  the  drifted  seaweed  that  proves  the  still 
invisible  land.  In  fact,  I for  one  am  glad  we  have  no  Pau- 
sanias  to  dull  the  edge  of  our  wits  with  his  bald  and  often 
erroneous  statements.  He  has  helped  much  in  making  it 
possible  to  draw  up  chronological  tables  and  schedules  of 
all  sorts  regarding  the  development  of  Greek  sculpture, 
yet  had  he  never  written,  the  true  understanding  of  the  art, 
the  comprehension  of  the  forces  that  moulded  it  from  the 
days  of  its  early  promising  effort  through  its  bloom  of  unchal- 
lenged perfection  on  to  its  phosphorescent  decay,  would  have 
been  not  less  full  and  possibly  even  more  intelligent  than  it 
is  to-day.  Pausanias  and  others  of  his  kind  have  handed 
down  many  names  which  mean,  in  truth,  no  more  to  us  than 
the  titles  “master  this”  or  “master  that”  of  the  mediaeval 
German  school  of  painting.  Such  facts  and  data  are  of 
infinitely  little  importance.  Even  without  them  the  razor- 
sharp  critical  powers  of  a Heinrich  Brunn  or  an  Adolf  Furt- 
waengler  (before  he  gave  up  his  energy  to  acrimonious  and 
petty  dispute)  were  not  to  be  denied  and  without  any  fictitious 
aid  of  names  would  have  interpreted  Greek  art  to  us.  That 
there  are  always  blind  souls  who,  when  they  see  the  Hermes 
of  Praxiteles,  think  it  Roman,  and  consider  the  Maiden  of 
Anzio  a work  of  the  time  of  the  Antonines,  and  who  find  other 
blind  souls  to  follow  them,  does  not  delay  the  Brunns  and 


CYRENE  ATHENA 


139 


Furtwaenglers  when  they  make  their  rare  appearance  in  the 
world  of  scholarship. 

Thus  with  no  help  or  suggestion  derived  from  information 
given  us  by  ancient  travellers  we  start  on  our  study  of  the 
Athena  with  the  knowledge  that  the  technique  of  the  art 
of  sculpture  was  so  well  understood,  and  the  practice  of  it 
so  common,  at  Cyrene,  that  we  need  not,  unless  forced  by  in- 
ternal evidence,  look  elsewhere  for  the  nameless  sculptor  who 
carved  this  masterpiece.  The  result  will  show  that  all  the 
internal  evidence  is  in  favour  of  its  Cyrenean  origin. 

Since,  then,  sculpture  was  at  Cyrene,  as  everywhere  else 
in  the  Greek  world,  one  of  the  common  modes  of  expression, 
it  remains  for  us  to  study  the  influences  to  which  it  was 
subjected.  We  meet  here  the  strange  phenomenon  that  the 
millennial-old  civilisation  of  Egypt  exerted  apparently  no  in- 
fluence whatever  on  the  young  Greek  town  to  the  west.  That 
towards  the  end  of  the  latter’s  career,  when  she  had  fallen 
under  Ptolemaic  control,  she  should  be  unaffected  by  Egyptian 
thought  is  not  surprising,  for  Egypt  herself  had  at  that  time 
submitted  to  the  spell  of  Greece,  and  the  true  Egyptian  art 
must  have  seemed  to  the  fellahin  who  then  cultivated  the 
Nile  valley  almost  as  strange  as  it  does  to  us.  If,  however, 
the  often-expressed  theory,  supposed  to  be  borne  out  by 
certain  statues  found  on  the  Acropolis  of  Athens  and  else- 
where, that  the  archaic  sculptors  of  the  Greek  mainland  were 
more  or  less  governed  by  Egyptian  ideals,  be  true,  then  it  is 
odd  that  even  the  most  archaic  art  of  Cyrene,  represented  by 
statuettes  of  the  sixth  century  b.c.,  does  not  exhibit  a similar 
tendency.  But  this  belief  in  the  Egyptian  influence  on  the 
artists  of  Greece  is  based,  it  seems  to  me,  on  unsound  evidence. 


140 


STUDIES 


There  are  obviously  two,  and  only  two,  chief  points  to  con- 
sider, if  one  would  fully  understand  a work  of  art.  One  is  its 
outer  form,  the  other  what  it  is  trying  to  express  ; for  even  the 
childish  and  misdirected  efforts  of  the  “Futurists”  are  an 
endeavour  to  express  something  — how  futile  these  efforts 
are  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  were  it  not  for  the  titles  given 
the  works  by  the  Futurists  themselves  no  one,  no  matter  how 
capable  an  artist  or  how  mystical  a dreamer,  could  possibly 
guess  what  they  were  intended  to  represent.  The  works 
show  an  even  greater  confusion  of  mind  than  that  of  Father 
Castel  who  in  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  at- 
tempted to  make  instruments  which  he  called  clavecin  des 
couleurs  and  clavecin  des  odeurs,  instruments  intended  to  pro- 
duce by  means  of  changing  colours  and  perfumes  the  same 
effects  as  music. 

Now  one  thing  in  very  truth  Greek  art  never  was,  either 
in  poetry,  sculpture,  painting,  or  in  any  other  form : it 
was  never  confused,  but  had  always  perfect  lucidity.  In 
sculpture,  for  instance,  the  composition  of  the  groups  and 
figures,  though  often  displaying  an  intricacy  almost  as  great 
as  that  of  a knot  by  Leonardo,  is  never  anything  but  clear 
to  the  trained  eye.  To  understand  the  value  of  this  quality 
one  need  only  look  at  the  work  of  Rodin,  which,  no  matter 
what  elements  of  greatness  it  may  be  thought  to  have,  cer- 
tainly has  not  one  slightest  atom  of  Greek  quality.  Besides 
the  evil  of  confusion  another  failure  sculpture  may  show  is  the 
stagnation  of  formalism.  This  is  one  of  the  most  noticeable 
features  of  Egyptian  art.  Notwithstanding  the  wonderful 
technical  dexterity  of  the  workers  in  that  land,  hieratic  in- 
fluences were  too  strong  for  them  and  their  natural  impulses 


CYRENE  ATHENA 


141 


were  shackled  by  the  bonds  of  dogma.  This  blight,  too,  the 
Greeks  avoided.  What  then  is  the  ground  for  maintaining  that 
their  early  art  was  influenced  by  Egypt  ? That  the  early  sculp- 
tors may  have  learnt  many  technical  processes  from  Egyptians 
I would  neither  deny  nor  affirm.  They  may  even  have  had 
Egyptian  teachers,  just  as  later  the  Romans  had  Grecian  ones, 
but  that  does  not  mean  that  Greek  art  was  of  necessity 
moulded  in  accordance  with  Egyptian  feelings  and  ideals. 

True  it  is  that  there  are  certain  Greek  statues  which  re- 
semble in  pose  and  stiffness  certain  Egyptian  statues,  but  there 
is  a fundamental  difference  between  the  two  groups.  The 
pose  is  an  accident  and  can  be  duplicated  in  work  from  other 
parts  of  the  world.  The  fundamental  difference  is  that  the 
stiffness  of  the  Greek  work  does  not  represent  the  formalism 
of  Egypt,  but  it  is  due  to  the  awkwardness  of  inexperience. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  “Aunts”  found  on  the  Athenian 
Acropolis.  They  are  by  an  unpractised,  stiff  hand  and  in  that 
sense  they  are  formal;  but  they  are  far  more,  delightfully 
spontaneous.  Such  work  would  have  been  inconceivable  to 
an  Egyptian  and  would  have  seemed  to  him  irreligious  and 
indecent.  It  is  not  to  be  thought  that  Greek  art  even  in  its 
period  of  fullest  bloom  was  not  formal;  it  was.  It  was  the 
wonderful  talent  of  the  Greek  clearly  to  understand  the  laws 
proper  to  the  various  arts,  but  he  was  always  spontaneous  and 
original,  and  his  work  exhibits  formality  but  not  formalism. 

These  qualities  are  seen  in  the  earliest  work  found  at  Gy- 
rene, the  terra-cottas  already  mentioned.  That  they  should 
be  so  manifested  is  but  another  proof  of  the  amazing  force  and 
individuality  of  the  Greek  mind.  Any  other  race  would  almost 
surely  have  felt  the  influence  of  Egypt.  Her  territory  joined 


142 


STUDIES 


that  of  Cyrene  on  the  eastern  border  and  the  land  between 
the  city  and  the  Nile  offered  no  barriers  of  mountains  or 
desert  to  hinder  easy  and  comparatively  rapid  communication, 
yet  the  outer  form  and  inner  content  of  these  early  Cyrenean 
figures  is  completely  and  unmistakably  Greek.  That  traders 
passed  back  and  forth  from  one  region  to  the  other  cannot 
be  doubted.  Caravans  plodded  their  slow  way  from  the 
sacred  fountain  to  the  mysterious  river,  coastwise  boats  skirted 
the  inhospitable  shore  even  as  they  do  to-day.  The  Greek, 
then  as  now  the  costermonger  of  the  Mediterranean,  made 
his  money,  but  he  kept  his  individuality.  Throughout  the 
centuries,  until  at  last  spiritual  aloofness  was  trampled  down 
by  a ruder  and  more  powerful  race,  at  Cyrene  as  completely 
as  at  Athens,  the  Greek  maintained  his  own  standards  and 
beliefs.  As  the  clumsy  terra-cottas,  wrought  not  very  long 
after  the  first  settlers  were  guided  to  the  spring  which  made 
a great  city  possible,  show  this,  so  also  does  the  Athena. 
Individual  she  is,  and  unique,  but  she  is  pure  Greek.  The 
reasons  for  some  part  of  her  individuality  will  become  clear 
as  we  study  her  still  further. 

We  see,  then,  that  the  Athena  is  a work  expressing  with  un- 
veiled distinctness  the  Greek  spirit,  and  also  that  there  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  sculptor  was  other  than  Cyrenean; 
it  remains  to  find  out  at  what  date  the  figure  was  carved. 
Often  a mere  fragment  like  this  exhibits  some  detail  that 
makes  it  easy  to  fix  the  date  of  its  origin  with  considerable 
accuracy.  In  this  case  the  question  is  complicated  by  both 
technical  points  and  general  considerations.  Had  this  head 
been  found  in  Greece  itself  or  in  any  part  of  the  Greek  por- 
tion of  Asia  Minor,  the  history  of  which  is  well  known  and  the 


CYRENE  ATHENA 


143 


art  of  which  has  been  laid  bare  by  the  archaeologist,  we  should 
have  various  well-established  criteria  by  which  to  test  and 
estimate  the  head.  But  the  definite  historical  records  of 
Cyrene  are  very  scanty,  and  though  what  is  probably  in  gen- 
eral a fairly  accurate  idea  of  the  development  of  the  city  can 
be  built  up  from  the  verses  of  poets,  the  accounts  of  historians 
and  other  sources  of  various  kinds,  still  there  is  little  to  help 
us  date  a single  work  of  art.  There  is,  however,  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  the  deeper  currents  which  gave  the  course 
to  the  life  of  Cyrene  were  very  different  from  those  which 
guided  the  life  of  other  colonies.  Pindar’s  odes  alone  would 
serve  to  show  that  the  African  city  was  in  pretty  constant 
relation  with  the  mother  country.  Hence  it  is  safe  to  assume 
that  the  arts  developed  in  Cyrene  very  much  as  they  did 
elsewhere  in  the  Greek  world. 

At  the  present  time  surely  enough  is  known  of  the 
various  parts  of  that  world  to  make  us  realise  that  all  advance 
did  not  spring  from  Greece  herself.  Though  the  Greek  spirit 
was  bound  to  express  itself  in  similar  forms  wherever  Greeks 
settled,  still  sometimes  one  region,  sometimes  another,  was 
in  the  lead.  Hence  any  chronological  scale  as  applied  to  art 
must  be  elastic,  and  one  must  not  give  way  to  the  temptation 
to  judge  every  new  find  by  the  standards  set  by  the  artists 
of  Greece  herself.  Provincialism  and  archaism  often  take 
similar  external  forms.  So,  too,  it  is  a general  law  that  col- 
onies develop  more  rapidly  than  the  country  from  which 
they  spring.  A rapid  development  may  be  brought  about 
also  by  geographical  and  climatic  conditions  in  places  which, 
at  first  sight,  do  not  appear  to  be  conducive  to  the  advance- 
ment of  art. 


144 


STUDIES 


In  years  to  come  it  will  be  proved  beyond  a doubt,  I believe, 
that  Cyrene  was  such  a place.  Her  distance  from  the  regions 
in  which  we  are  accustomed  to  think  of  the  Greeks  as  working 
out  their  destiny  saved  her  from  the  wastage  of  those  wars 
which  it  is  hard  to  regret  because  they  have  given  us  immortal 
pictures  of  Greek  courage  and  devotion.  What  her  relations 
with  the  native  powers  were  we  do  not  yet  know,  but  had 
they  led  to  any  such  struggles  as  made  the  pride  of  Athens 
and  the  other  cities  of  the  mother  country,  surely  some  echo 
would  have  reached  our  ears.  So  we  may  think  of  Cyrene 
as  waxing  fat  from  the  moment  when  the  first  settlers,  after 
their  long  wanderings  to  find  a habitable  spot,  climbed  the 
rocky  hillsides  and  quenched  their  thirst  at  the  spring  which 
with  its  bright  arms  still  holds  a small  settlement.  It  is  for 
these  general  considerations  of  easy  colonial  growth,  and  free- 
dom from  external  distractions,  .that  I think  the  Athena  can 
be  safely  dated  rather  earlier  than  we  should  be  tempted  to 
date  her  had  she  been  found,  let  us  say,  in  Athens  or  Sparta. 

The  technical  point  which  I mentioned  as  making  it  diffi- 
cult to  date  the  head,  is  the  helmet.  It  is  of  the  Corinthian 
type,  but  there  is  nothing  in  its  general  shape  or  details  of 
form  by  which  a date  can  be  fixed.  Furthermore,  it  covers 
the  head  so  completely  that  only  a few  waving  locks  of  hair 
over  each  ear  and  the  heavy  braid  resting  on  the  nape  of  the 
neck  are  visible.  This  concealment  of  the  hair  takes  away  in 
large  measure  one  of  the  most  helpful  methods  of  dating 
statuary. 

In  the  case  of  female  figures,  nevertheless,  the  treatment  of  the 
hair  is  less  helpful,  perhaps,  than  in  statues  of  the  rougher  sex 
because  in  the  former  the  more  severe  and  orderly  dressing 


Plate  LXI 


CYRENE  ATHENA 


145 


of  the  bound  locks  gave  less  chance  for  individuality  of  treat- 
ment than  did  the  crisp  and  wind-tossed  curls  of  youths  and 
men;  still,  even  in  the  women’s  figures  the  hair  very  often 
betrays  the  date  of  the  sculptor.  Few  though  the  tresses 
are  which  escape  the  stern  covering  of  Athena’s  helmet,  they 
are  sufficient  to  help  us  in  our  elusive  pursuit.  The  general 
method  in  which  the  hair  is  arranged,  parted  over  the  brow 
and  drawn  closely  back  above  the  ears  to  a knot  or  short 
doubled  up  braid  at  the  back,  is  one  that  suffered  but  little 
change  during  several  centuries.  In  the  archaic  time  the 
locks  fell  more  loosely  behind,  while  in  the  fourth  century 
they  were  more  knotted,  but  these  slight  variations  occur  now 
and  again  throughout  the  whole  period  of  great  Greek  art 
and  were  due  more  to  individual  fancy  of  artist  or  model  than 
to  the  stifling  rules  of  fashion. 

But  though  we  must  finally  conclude  that  the  mode  of  wear- 
ying the  hair  does  not  assist  us,  as  the  cut  of  the  dress  most 
certainly  would  have  done  had  we  been  fortunate  enough  to 
find  the  body  of  the  statue,  still  the  tresses  between  the  temple 
and  the  ear  have  a quality  of  their  own  which  points  to  a defi- 
nite time.  They  suggest  the  loose  waving  form  of  life  with 
noteworthy  success.  The  sculptor  belonged  to  a period  when 
the  special  nature  of  marble  was  thoroughly  understood. 
The  period  had  passed  when  bronze  and  marble  were  treated 
in  almost  identical  fashion,  and  the  time  had  come  when  sculp- 
tors could  manage  various  materials  with  complete  under- 
standing and  were  enabled  to  reproduce  surfaces  or  substances 
in  the  way  best  suited  to  malleable  metal  or  to  friable 
stone. 

The  most  perfect  example  of  this  understanding  of  sub- 


146 


STUDIES 


stance  which  we  possess,  and  one  that  has  never  been  sur- 
passed, is  the  head  of  Hermes  by  Praxiteles  made  in  the  first 
half  of  the  fourth  century  before  Christ.  The  hair  of  the 
Athena  is  handled  in  much  the  same  way.  The  locks  and 
strands  are  not  sharply  outlined  and  separated  one  from  an- 
other but  flow  from  brow  to  neck  in  subtly  broken  masses 
among  which  the  light  plays  in  and  out  as  softly  as  in  nature. 
This  naturalistic  treatment  became  common  after  it  had  once 
been  arrived  at,  but  the  tendency  after  the  end  of  the  fourth 
century  was  to  try  for  purer  realism.  This  could  not  be 
attained  by  greater  skill  in  modelling  and  carving  but  only 
by  polishing  or  engraving  the  surface.  The  Athena  exhibits 
neither  of  these  signs  of  decadence  but  the  surface  still  shows 
that  lovely  dusty  softness  which  is  characteristic  of  the  best 
work  of  the  late  fifth  and  early  fourth  centuries,  a softness 
which  would  not  have  been  imperceptible  and  lacking  in 
effect  even  when  the  figure  was  tinted  with  colour,  as,  probably, 
all  Greek  sculpture  was. 

It  is  not  only  the  hair  which  suggests  the  date  of  the  early 
fourth  century  as  the  time  when  the  Athena  was  made.  The 
broad  chin,  projecting  well  away  from  the  neck,  a chin  that 
would  be  heavy,  were  it  not  for  the  exquisiteness  of  its  out- 
line, which  seems  to  have  the  living  force  of  a coiled  steel 
spring,  is  such  as  was  common,  in  the  fifth  and  early  fourth 
centuries.  So,  too,  are  the  broad  set,  wide  opened  eyes  over- 
hung by  the  long  low  curve  of  the  brow.  Not  a sign  in  these 
of  the  sentimentally  dreaming  eyes  with  their  melting  lower 
lids  which  we  associate  with  the  work  of  the  imitators  and 
followers  of  Praxiteles ; not  a trace  of  the  furrowed  brow  and 
the  eye  gleaming,  like  a live  coal,  from  the  deep  shadowed 


CYRENE  ATHENA 


147 


socket  such  as  we  see  in  the  work  of  Scopas  and  the  superb 
masters  of  Pergamon. 

In  discussing  such  a fragment  as  this  Athena  it  cannot  be  too 
clearly  remembered  that  the  sculptor,  like  the  poet,  does  but 
express  his  own  day,  and  if  Praxiteles  was  delicate  and  senti- 
mental or  Scopas  forceful  and  passionate,  it  was  because 
these  were  characteristic  qualities  of  their  periods.  These 
are,  furthermore,  exactly  the  qualities  one  would  expect  at 
a time  when  old  standards  were  beginning  to  be  doubted  and 
the  future  offered  nothing  so  substantial  to  take  their  place. 

The  same  phenomenon  is  seen  in  the  seventeenth  century 
of  our  era.  In  both  periods  thoughtful  people  either  clung  to 
a sentimental  repetition  of  old  ideas  which  no  longer  had  life- 
giving  and  creative  force,  but  were  loved  and  dwelt  on  for 
the  sake  of  old  association,  or  else  they  were  driven  to  a pas- 
sionate striving  after  new  and  dimly  seen  hopes  and  ideals. 
Sentimental  dreaming  took  the  place  of  good  hope  and  as- 
surance while  mystical  passion  took  that  of  intelligent  piety. 
In  the  face  of  the  Athena  there  is  seen  no  sign  of  a troubled 
spirit,  she  is  calm  and  steadfast  with  the  strength  of  perfect 
self -poise,  which  could  hardly  be,  were  she  sprung  from  a later 
time  than  the  early  fourth  century. 

It  has  been  insisted  that  there  is  in  this  head  no  trace 
of  sentimentality,  and  it  may  be  thought  that  I have  failed  to 
notice,  or  to  give  due  weight  to,  the  curious  pose,  drooping 
over  slightly  to  one  side.  This  is  one  of  the  most  noticeable 
points  about  the  head,  but,  to  my  mind,  it  expresses  a feeling 
common  in  the  fifth  and  early  fourth  centuries  and  is  not 
motived  in  the  slightest  degree  by  the  later  sentimentality. 
In  the  old  man  seated  on  the  ground  in  the  Olympia  pedi- 


148 


STUDIES 


ment,  in  the  Mourning  Athena  at  Athens,  in  most  of  the  grave 
steles  of  the  late  fifth  and  early  fourth  centuries,  in  the  por- 
trait bust  of  Pericles,  is  to  be  seen,  in  the  pose  and  expression 
of  the  figures,  the  expression  of  a deep  sentiment  of  combined 
gravity  and  tenderness.  Again  and  again  this  sentiment  is 
expressed  by  the  great  dramatists  in  words  that  ring  down 
the  centuries  like  distant  bells.  It  is  the  recognition  of 
suffering  and  sorrow  but  also  of  the  self-control  that  meets 
them  undismayed.  When  the  Greeks  lost  their  faith,  at  the 
same  time  they  lost  this  control.  In  the  Demeter  of  Cnidos 
and  the  portrait  of  Mausolus  there  are  unmistakable  signs 
of  lack  of  control,  — in  the  former  the  startled  pose,  and  in  the 
latter  the  look  of  distress  plainly  visible  in  the  fine  and  vig- 
orous face.  The  Athena  resembles  the  Pericles  and  the  grave 
steles  in  this  respect.  The  head  leans  over  as  though  bent  by 
the  wind  (a  position  which  emphasises  the  exquisite  shape  of 
the  neck),  but  in  the  steady,  quiet  eyes  and  in  the  sensitive 
closed  lips  one  sees  plainly  that  simple  directness  that  dis- 
tinguished the  Greeks  of  the  period  to  which  I attribute  this 
head,  from  all  the  other  peoples  who  have  inhabited  this 
earth. 

I have  just  mentioned  the  mouth  of  the  figure,  and  this  is 
the  feature  to  which  I referred  before  as  showing,  possibly, 
the  effect  of  local  circumstance  on  the  sculptor.  It  is  a very 
noticeable  mouth ; large  with  unusually  full  and  richly  mod- 
elled lips  — lips  that  could  send  the  battle  cry  echoing  across 
the  scarred  and  rock-strewn  hills  or  could  whisper  like  the 
brook  beneath  the  rosy-plumed  oleanders.  In  shape  it  is 
by  no  means  a typical  Greek  mouth,  but  has  a trace  of  the 
fuller  form  common  to  the  Libyans  with  whom  the  Cyreneans 


CYRENE  ATHENA 


149 


were  in  constant  and  close  intercourse.  While  it  is  true  that 
history  fails  to  note  a single  case  of  an  individual  of  pure 
black  blood  accomplishing  anything  of  note  except  in  a mili- 
tary way,  such  do  often  possess  great  beauty  of  form  and 
feature,  and  this  fact  has  been  seized  upon  by  the  sculptor 
of  the  Athena.  With  great  skill  he  has  softened  the  some- 
what savage  shape  and  given  it  the  lines  that  are  consequent 
upon  a higher  civilization. 

We  have  come  now  to  the  end  of  our  study  of  this  bit  of 
sculpture.  It  could  be  compared  indefinitely  with  other 
heads,  and  the  similarities  or  differences  could  be  pointed  out. 
Little  would  result,  however,  from  such  comparisons.  What 
is  needed  is  more  sculpture  from  the  same  region  with  which 
to  study  the  Athena.  But  till  this  is  forthcoming,  we  are  left 
to  the  general  conclusions  derived  from  this  single  example. 
These  conclusions  are  that  the  Athena  was  carved  by  some  as 
yet  unknown  artist  at  Cyrene  in  the  first  half  of  the  fourth 
century  b.c.  and  that  the  work  differs  from  the  Greek  work  we 
are  accustomed  to  in  showing  local  characteristics  both  in 
special  features  and  in  method.  This  may  seem  to  be  of  small 
importance  and  the  head  to  be  unworthy  so  elaborate  a dis- 
cussion ; such  would  be  the  case  were  we  to  think  of  it  merely 
as  an  archaeological  remnant  of  a forgotten  city  and  time. 
But  this  head  is  more  than  a mere  bit  of  flotsam.  It  is  not 
a dead  and  meaningless  fragment,  but  has  still  the  suggestive 
and  creative  power  of  any  true  work  of  art.  This  vitality 
and  artistic  veracity  are  shown  by  the  extreme  clearness  with 
which  it  illustrates  two  of  the  fundamental  characteristics 
of  the  Greek  genius  — humanism  and  directness. 

The  simplicity  and  directness  of  the  Greek  showed  itself 


150  STUDIES 

in  all  lie  did  or  made.  He  never  attributed  human  emotions 
to  nature  and  never  bound  himself  with  dogmatic  conven- 
tions. For  these  reasons  he  was  never  sentimental  and  never 
dry  or  false.  He  saw  ugliness,  moral  as  well  as  material,  in 
the  world  around  him,  but  recognising  that  it  in  no  way  added 
to  happiness,  he  did  not  wallow  in  it  and  proclaim  himself  a 
“realist.”  When  he  came  to  consider  religion  he  was  straight- 
forward in  his  treatment  of  the  Gods  as  he  was  with  himself. 
They  were  but  a superior  race  born  from  the  same  great  mother 
Earth  (Pindar,  Nem.  VI.  1).  Athena,  the  Goddess,  is  but  a 
woman  and  nothing  more.  He  saw  beautiful  women  in  the 
cities  where  he  dwelt  and  in  form  of  their  physical  perfection 
he  represented  the  bright-eyed  Goddess.  He  sought  no  im- 
aginary qualities,  he  attempted  to  express  no  hazy,  mystical 
dreams  but  finding  beauty  in  mankind,  he  was  satisfied  to  re- 
produce it  so  well  as  might  be. 

Ordinary  everyday  life  was  the  chief  interest  of  the  thought- 
ful Greek.  He  had  the  same  circumstances  of  existence  around 
him  as  we  have  to-day,  and  knew  just  as  much  of  the  origin 
or  the  end  of  it  all.  Life,  death  and  the  passing  show  of  time 
were  his  schoolmasters  as  they  are  ours,  and  from  them  he 
learnt  humanism.  He  thought  of  the  world  not  as  a blind  acci- 
dent nor  as  a mystical  promise  but  merely  as  the  setting  for 
man  and  hence  the  conduct  of  life  became  his  chief  interest. 

The  Greek  sought  for  all  means  whereby  he  might  avoid  the 
pitfalls  of  youth,  secure  the  comforts  of  well-rounded  growth 
and  minimise  the  weaknesses  and  griefs  of  old  age.  To 
attain  this  ideal  certain  things  were  seen  to  be  necessary, 
and  from  Solon,  who  considered  that  the  man  was  happy 
who  had  health,  good  fortune,  good  looks  and  children,  to 


CYRENE  ATHENA 


151 


Aristotle,  who  (Rhet.  1360  b,  14)  gave  the  same  definition  in  a 
more  amplified  form,  the  ideal  did  not  alter.  Even  to-day 
there  is  but  one  part  of  this  that  seems  strange  to  us.  That 
is  the  stress  laid  on  personal  beauty.  Good  fortune,  health, 
wisdom,  children  and  particularly  wealth  go  to  form  the 
general  ideal  of  the  modern  world,  but  there  can  be  only  few 
who  would  admit  that  the  desire  for  physical  beauty  was  part 
and  parcel  of  their  ideal.  The  Greek  on  the  other  hand 
frankly  desired  it  almost  more  than  anything  else  and  showed 
his  perfectly  simple  and  entirely  pleasant  belief  in  its  value 
by  his  games  and  by  many  a story  which  he  told  as  illustrative 
of  enduring  truths.  One  of  these  tales  has  a bearing  on  the 
Athena  of  Cyrene.  It  is  that  of  Peisistratus,  who  in  order  to 
become  ruler  of  Athens  came  there  accompanied  by  a beauti- 
ful woman  in  regard  to  whom  he  told  the  credulous  citizens 
that  she  was  the  Goddess  Athena  herself. 

Thus  we  see  that  it  is  due  to  no  mere  partiality  for  the  pleas- 
ing form  on  the  part  of  the  unknown  sculptor  that  this  head 
from  Cyrene  is  beautiful,  but  because  his  brain  and  hand  were 
guided  by  ideals  that  were  second  nature  to  him.  As  we  grow 
familiar  with  the  head,  the  loveliness  of  every  feature,  the  sharp 
insistence  on  sweet  feminine  beauty  make  one  wish  destruction 
might  fall  on  the  vague  and  dreamy  and  contorted  realisms  with 
which  many  of  the  modern  artists  would  attract  our  attention. 
The  calm  and  steadfast  eyes  look  at  us  across  the  centuries 
and  question  our  mysticism.  The  straightforward,  imme- 
diate, perfect  humanity  gives  us  pause  in  our  mad  search  for 
novelty,  and  should  we  conclude  that  this  is  perfect  art,  though 
we  may  lose  the  sympathy  of  our  contemporaries,  we  shall 
win  the  companionship  of  those  whose  laurels  are  immortal. 


GIORGIONE 


Although  in  the  following  Study  of  Giorgione  I express  certain  conclusions 
which  seem  to  me  certain,  it  is  nevertheless  probable  that  there  will  never  be 
absolute  agreement  about  his  works.  The  indubitable  facts  concerning  him  are 
so  very  few  that  no  two  critics  can  be  expected  to  see  the  matter  eye  to  eye.  I 
disagree  in  many  points  with  the  pathbreakers  Morelli  and  Berenson,  but  it 
shoidd  not  be  forgotten  that  the  knowledge  of  such  men  gives  an  added  keenness 
to  the  innate  powers  of  perception  of  those  who  come  after  them.  Their  torch 
lights  ours,  and  so  the  path  is  pursued. 

The  publication  of  Justi’s  valuable  work  on  Giorgione  ( Berlin , 1908),  in 
which  all  the  pictures  still  in  existence  that  have  bearing  on  Giorgione  are  re- 
produced, makes  full  illustration  of  this  Study  quite  unnecessary. 


I.  PAINTINGS  ATTRIBUTED  TO  GIORGIONE 


A great  upheaval  and  destruction  of  old  traditions  has 
taken  place  of  late  years  in  regard  to  paintings,  and  while 
much  truth  has  been  brought  to  light,  a great  deal  of  fancy 
has  been  given  the  semblance  of  veracity.  The  name  of 
Morelli  is  familiar  to  all  who  take  a serious  interest  in  the 
paintings  of  the  Italian  schools,  and  though  he  was  not  the 
first  to  practise  what  not  inaptly  has  been  dubbed  the  ‘toe- 
nail’ method  of  criticism,  yet  his  writings  are  more  volumi- 
nous than  those  of  other  authors,  and  exemplify  this  method 
of  criticism  more  completely,  so  that  he  may  be  taken  as  the 
protagonist  of  the  school.  It  was  the  development  of  photog- 
raphy, and  the  vast  increase  in  the  number  of  pictures  of 
which  photographs  could  be  procured,  which  gave  rise  to  the 
Morellian  school.  The  writers  of  earlier  days  who  could  not 
have  before  them  on  their  tables,  or  carry  with  them  to  the 
galleries,  a large  quantity  of  reproductions  of  the  works  of 
any  one  master,  were  in  a large  measure  prevented  from  study- 
ing the  comparative  likenesses  or  dissimilarities  of  such  pic- 
tures. 

But,  as  was  natural,  with  this  intensive  study  of  photo- 
graphs has  come  about  a microscopic  method  of  looking  at 
pictures  which  often  disregards  the  larger  and  more  unques- 
tionable qualities,  and  satisfies  itself  with  tricks  of  drawing  and 
the  painting  of  details.  It  is  as  though  instead  of  considering 


155 


156 


STUDIES 


the  structure  and  content  of  a book,  one  should  measure 
the  lines  and  number  the  punctuation  points.  It  is  within 
the  realm  of  possibility  that  the  day  has  passed  for  treatises 
based  on  such  thorough  study  and  acute  perception  of  the 
qualities  expressed  by  the  Italian  painters  as  were  written 
by  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  or  such  magnificently  imagina- 
tive and  poetic  interpretations  as  the  enduring  verities  first 
enunciated  by  Ruskin. 

Not  that  these  men  did  not  make  mistakes.  Had  they 
never  done  so  we  should  not  be  able  to  give  a true  valuation 
to  their  work.  Stupidity  is  not  demonstrated  by  the  making 
of  blunders  but  by  the  spirit  that  animates  the  person  at  the 
moment  of  their  commission.  Ruskin,  to  illustrate  by  means 
of  the  brightest  example,  realised  that  paintings  are  expres- 
sions of  thought  just  as  much  as  are  printed  books,  and  that 
they  are  to  be  read  and  understood  not  by  adding  the  vowels 
together  in  one  heap  and  the  consonants  in  another,  but  in 
their  entirety. 

Morelli  and  his  followers,  on  the  other  hand,  are  obviously 
in  large  measure  satisfied  by  an  analysis  of  external  forms  and 
if  they  discover  that  each  of  two  pictures  presents  the  same 
number  of  curved  and  straight  lines,  no  further  proof  is  needed 
to  satisfy  them  that  the  same  author  is  responsible  for  both 
works.  It  is  true  that  details  of  style  must  be  studied  and 
were  often  neglected  by  the  earlier  critics,  but  the  famous  proof 
of  the  identity  of  Moses  and  Melchisedek  — “you  take  off 
the  -oses  and  add  the  -elchisedek”  — will  never  satisfy  many 
people.  Morelli  forgot  that  it  requires  no  special  perception 
to  discover  that  Botticelli  gave  his  figures  square  nails  on 
their  toes  and  fingers,  or  that  the  knuckles  of  Rosselli’s  figures 


GIORGIONE 


157 


are  apt  to  be  swollen.  But  it  is  exactly  this  kind  of  obser- 
vation which  copyists  possess.  By  the  observation  of  such 
points  one  is  able  to  say  only  that  such  and  such  a work  is 
externally  like  the  works  of  this  or  that  artist,  but  that  it  is 
by  him  depends  on  quite  other  proofs. 

One  or  two  examples  will  show  the  fallacy  of  such  a method 
of  argument.  There  is  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts 
a picture  representing  the  Virgin  and  Child  with  St.  John. 
The  name  of  Botticelli  is  on  the  frame.  So  far  as  finger  nails 
or  shape  of  nostril  or  locks  of  hair  or  position  of  fingers  go 
(and  all  these  details  are  peculiarly  treated  by  Botticelli) , the 
work  might  be  considered  to  be  by  him.  It  is,  however, 
certain  that  Botticelli  was  not  the  painter  of  the  panel. 
Among  several  circumstances  that  demonstrate  this,  such  as 
the  method  of  painting  employed  by  the  artist,  there  is  one 
that  has  to  do  with  the  spirit  of  the  work,  and  which  in  itself 
is  sufficient  proof  : I refer  to  the  figure  of  St.  John.  We  have 
enough  works  by  Botticelli,  the  authenticity  of  which  is  es- 
tablished beyond  all  question,  to  know  that  he  could  never  at 
any  period  of  his  career  have  represented  this  character  with 
a simper  that  reminds  one  of  Francia’s  sentimental  figures. 

The  picture  is  by  a feeble  imitator  of  the  master.  The  works 
of  Botticelli  and  his  imitators  offer,  because  of  the  very  marked 
peculiarities  of  the  master,  extremely  good  examples  to  show 
what  mistakes  arise  by  relying  too  exclusively  on  the  Morel- 
lian  method,  and  in  both  public  and  private  collections  are 
many  pictures  showing  the  mannerisms  of  the  Florentine  but 
which  are  certainly  not  by  him.1  Take  another  master, 

1 Mr.  Berenson  has  done  much  to  correct  the  attributions  in  his  studies  on  the 
artist  he  calls,  since  his  real  name  is  unknown,  the  Amico  di  Sandro.  Berenson’s 
amico  was,  I believe,  several  amid. 


158 


STUDIES 


Leonardo.  There  has  lately  gone  to  America1  a panel  rep- 
resenting the  head  of  a woman.  It  was  left  by  Morelli  when 
he  died  to  Donna  Laura  Minghetti.  To  the  followers  of 
Morelli,  the  picture  seemed  for  a long  time  genuine  enough, 
but  when  the  style  of  the  headdress,  the  tone  of  the  colour 
and  character  of  the  painting,  and  lastly  the  position  of  the 
head  on  the  panel  itself,  had  been  studied,  it  became  evident 
that  the  painting  was  a modern  forgery,  and  this  was  further 
proved  when  an  attempt  was  made  to  clean  the  panel. 

These  illustrations  are  sufficient  to  show  that  the  final 
judgment  of  a picture  should  be  based  on  more  than  its  tech- 
nical peculiarities.  The  observation  of  these  is  good  to  begin 
with,  but  it  does  not  suffice.  That  even  Morelli  himself 
instinctively  felt  the  weakness  of  his  method  is  shown  in  a 
most  humorous  way  in  his  description  of  his  “discovery”  of 
the  author  of  a portrait  of  a woman  in  the  Borghese  Gallery. 

He  tells  us  how  before  he  looked  at  this  canvas  with 
kritischem  Auge  he  had  first  thought  it  to  be  by  Dosso  Dossi 
and  then  by  Sebastiano  Luciani.  The  rest  is  too  naive  to  trans- 
late, it  must  be  given  verbatim.  “Eines  Tages  jedoch,  als  ich 
wieder  fragend  und  entziickt  vor  dem  mysteriosen  Bilde  stand, 
begegnete  mein  eigener  Geist  dem  des  Kiinstlers,  welcher  aus 
diesen  weiblichen  Ziigen  heraussah  und  siehe  da,  in  der  ge- 
genseitigen  Beriihrung  ziindete  es  plotzlich  wie  ein  Funken 
und  ich  rief  in  meiner  Freude  aus : Nur  du,  mein  Freund, 
Giorgione  kannst  es  sein,  und  das  Bild  antwortete : Ja,  ich 
bin’s”;  and  then  follows  analysis  and  dissection  of  the 
portrait. 

The  still  small  voice  of  his  soul  having  interpreted  the  riddle 

1 In  the  gallery  of  Mr.  Davis,  in  Newport,  R.I. 


GIORGIONE 


159 


of  the  picture  he  then  saw  that  the  eye,  the  expression,  the 
mouth  were  such  as  only  Giorgione  could  paint.  In  a critical 
case  like  this  Morelli  had  to  look  first  to  something  other  than 
anatomical  or  sartorial  shapes.  Unfortunately,  in  this  par- 
ticular case,  he  has  convinced  but  few  students  by  this  sudden 
and  mysterious  interpretation  of  the  picture,  and  only  his 
most  ardent  apostles  see  in  the  ill-drawn  portrait  anything 
but  a feeble  imitation  of  certain  of  the  less  subtle  qualities  of 
the  great  Venetian. 

Morelli  made,  however,  other  discoveries  in  regard  to 
Giorgione  of  greater  import  than  this  ; but  before  taking  them 
up  in  detail  it  will  be  worth  while  to  fix  clearly  in  our  minds 
what  we  know  about  the  Venetian’s  work  from  contemporary 
or  approximately  contemporary  writers.  Vasari  and  Ridolfi 
do  not,  indeed,  fail  to  give  the  name  of  Giorgione  to  many  a 
picture  that  had  never  felt  the  artist’s  brush,  but  they  saw 
many  a picture  that  has  since  disappeared  and  what  they  tell 
us  is  the  basis  of  all  modern  criticism  of  this  most  poetic  of 
all  the  Venetians.  I believe  it  can  be  shown  that  much  which 
the  earlier  writers  said  of  him,  and  which  has  since  been  for- 
gotten or  unwisely  disregarded,  is  true. 

I will  say  nothing  of  the  life  that  Giorgio  Barbarelli  Gior- 
gione, Zorzone  as  his  comrade  Venetians  called  him,  led. 
That  has  little  to  do  with  us.  I wish  merely  to  show  which 
pictures  now  labelled  with  his  name  may  in  my  opinion  be 
confidently  accepted  as  his,  and  which  ones  we  are  justified 
in  taking  from  him.  In  his  early  days  he  painted,  says 
Vasari,  in  the  second  edition  of  the  “Lives”: 

1.  Many  pictures  of  the  Virgin. 

2.  David,  armed  and  with  long  hair,  holding  the  head  of  Goliath. 

3.  Warrior  with  a red  cap,  a fur  cloak  and  a silk  jacket. 


160 


STUDIES 


4.  Child. 

(2,  3,  and  4 were  owned  by  the  Patriarch  of  Aquileia.) 

5.  Portrait  of  Giovanni  Borgherini  and  his  master. 

6.  Head  of  a warrior,  owned  by  Anton  de’  Nobili  in  Florence. 

7.  Portrait  of  Consalvo  Ferrante. 

8.  Portrait  of  the  Doge  Leonardo  Loredano. 

9.  Many  other  portraits. 

10.  Frescoes  on  the  Ca  Soranzo  in  Venice  — one  representing  a figure  of 

Spring. 

11.  Frescoes  on  the  front  of  the  Fondaco  de’  Tedeschi  — the  scenes 

were  apparently  fantastical  or  allegorical. 

12.  Christ  carrying  the  cross,  in  the  church  of  San  Rocco. 

13.  A nude  figure  to  show  that  by  means  of  reflections  painting  is  able 

to  show  all  parts  of  a thing  at  once. 

14.  Portrait  of  Catharine,  Queen  of  Cyprus. 

15.  Portrait  of  one  of  the  Fugger  family. 

This  list  suffices  to  show  that  Vasari’s  knowledge  of  Gior- 
gione’s work  was  slight  — and  we  can  prove  furthermore  it  was 
also  imperfect.  This  is  disheartening  enough,  but  a still  greater 
disappointment  comes  from  the  fact  that  of  this  list  of  fifteen 
numbers  (including  of  course  many  more  than  fifteen  pictures) 
there  are  but  five  of  which  either  the  originals  or  copies  are 
preserved  to-day.  These  five  are  Nos.  2,  5 (?),  11,  12,  and 
15.  Numbers  5 and  15  are  certainly  not  by  Giorgione.  The 
former  is  not  improbably  the  picture  in  Berlin  (No.  152)  of 
which  a replica  is  in  the  Louvre  (No.  1156),  both  pictures  attrib- 
uted merely  to  the  Venetian  school,  and  the  latter  hangs  in  the 
Munich  Gallery  (No.  1107)  under  the  name  of  Cariani.1  No.  2 
is  usually  thought  to  be  the  picture  in  Vienna,  but  Justi  (Geor- 
gione,  p.  182)  shows  that  it  may  be  a picture  in  Brunswick.2 

1 An  inscription  of  the  seventeenth  century  on  the  back  of  this  picture  reads : 
Giorgon  De  Castel  Franco,  F.  Maestro  De  Titiano.  The  picture  was  engraved  by 
Wenzel  Hollar  in  1650,  as  the  portrait  of  Buffalmacco  by  Giorgione. 

2 The  picture  in  Brunswick,  a poor  replica  of  which  is  in  Buda-Pesth,  is,  or  is 
derived  from,  a picture  engraved  by  Hollar  in  1650  and  called  by  him  a “portrait 
of  Giorgione  by  himself.”  This  is  possible,  but  the  picture  is  a mere  wreck.  See 
Justi,  loc.  cit. 


GIORGIONE 


161 


Ridolfi  gives  a much  longer  list  of  Giorgione’s  works: 

16.  Madonna  enthroned,  in  the  church  of  San  Liberale  in  Castelfranco. 

Portraits. 

17.  The  dead  Christ  held  by  angels,  at  Treviso. 

18.  Frescoes  on  Giorgione’s  own  house  in  Venice.  Figures  and  fantasies. 
Frescoes  on  the  Ca  Soranzo  (same  as  No.  10).  Destroyed  all  but 

a woman  with  flowers  in  her  hand  and  Vulcan  who  whips  Cupid. 

19.  Fables  from  Ovid ; among  them  Apollo  and  Daphne,  and  Zeus  as  a 

bull  with  Europa  on  his  back.  These  showed  strong  landscape 
feeling.  Gigantomachia.  Deucalion  and  Pyrrha.  Apollo  and 
the  Python.  Apollo  and  Daphne.  Io.  Phaethon.  Pyrrhus  and 
Phlegon.  Eos.  Diana  and  Callisto.  Mercury  stealing  Apollo’s 
herds.  Jove  and  Europa.  Cadmus  and  serpents’  teeth.  Actseon. 
Venus  and  Mars  caught  by  Vulcan.  Niobe.  Jove  and  Mercury 
at  the  house  of  Baucis.  Ariadne.  Alcides.  Achelous.  Deian- 
eira.  Loves  of  Apollo  and  Hyacinth.  Venus  and  Adonis.  Those 
owned  by  Sig.  Vidman  were:  birth  of  Adonis,  Adonis  and  Venus, 
Adonis’s  death. 

Portraits  (cf.  No.  9)  : Agostino  Barbarigo,  Catharine  Cornaro 
(perhaps  the  same  as  No.  14),  Consalvo  Ferrante. 

20.  Frescoes  on  the  Ca  Grimani  alia  Servisa  (Nude  woman  of  beautiful 

form)  ; on  a house  on  the  Campo  di  Santo  Stefano,  near  S.  M. 
Giubenico  (Bacchus,  Venus  and  Mars,  half  figures,  grotesques 
and  putti) ; and  on  the  Fondaco  de’  Tedeschi  (same  as  No.  11), 
trofei,  nudes,  heads,  allegorical  figures  measuring  the  world. 
Man  on  horseback. 

21.  A concert  (now  in  the  Pitti). 

22.  Allegory  of  hum&n  life  in  Casa  Cassinelli,  Genoa  (Nurse  holding 

crying  child,  and  a knight;  Youth  disputing  with  Philosophers, 
and  an  old  man). 

23.  Celius  Plotius  attacked  by  Claudius. 

24.  Family  group  — un  vecchio  in  atto  di  castrare  un  gatto. 

25.  Naked  woman  and  shepherd.  She  smiles  at  him  as  he  plays  his  pipe. 

26.  David,  a knight  and  a soldier,  owned  by  And.  Vendramin. 

27.  Naked  Venus  “ignuda  dormiente,  — e in  Casa  Marcella  e a piedi 

e Cupido  con  augellino  in  mano.” 

28.  Woman  dressed  as  a gipsy,  in  house  of  Gio.  Batt.  Sanuto. 

29.  Saul  holding  by  the  hair  the  head  of  Goliath  brought  to  him  by 

David.  Owned  by  the  Signori  Leoni  di  San  Lorenzo. 

30.  Judgment  of  Paris,  owned  by  the  Signori  Leoni  di  San  Lorenzo. 

31.  Judgment  of  Solomon,  in  Casa  Grimana  di  Santo  Ermacora;  the 

figure  of  the  executioner  unfinished.  (Now  at  Kingston  Lacy, 
England.) 

32.  Virgin,  St.  Jerome  and  other  figures,  owned  by  Signor  Gussoni. 


M 


162 


STUDIES 


33.  Warrior,  owned  by  Signor  Ruzzini. 

34.  Knight  with  black  armour,  owned  by  Signori  Contarini  da  S. 

Samuello. 

35.  Half  figure  of  St.  Jerome  reading,  owned  by  Signori  Malipieri. 

36.  Portraits  of  Luigi  Crasso,  seated,  with  spectacles  in  his  hand.  Owned 

by  Nicolo  Crasso. 

37.  Story  of  Psyche.  Twelve  pictures. 

38.  St.  Sebastian,  in  the  Chiesa  della  Annunciata,  Cremona. 

39.  St.  Sebastian,  — three-quarter  length,  owned  by  Prince  Aldobran- 

dini. 

40.  David,  owned  by  Prince  Borghese. 

41.  A youth  with  a curious  fur  cloak,  owned  by  Signori  Muselli  in 

Verona. 

42.  Christ  led  to  Calvary,  with  Mary  and  the  virgin  Veronica,  figures 

half  life  size. 

43.  Head  of  Polyphemus. 

44.  Portraits  of  women  with  strange  ornaments  and  feathers  in  their 

hair. 

David  with  long  hair,  dressed  in  a corselet  and  with  the  left  hand  in 

the  hair  of  the  head  of  Goliath  (same  as  No.  2).  This  was  a 

portrait  of  himself. 

45.  A general. 

46.  Youth  with  soft  hair  and  armed. 

Portrait  of  one  of  the  Fuggers  (same  as  No.  15). 

47.  A nude  figure  with  a green  cloth  over  his  knees  and  armour  beside 

him,  owned  by  Van  Veert  in  Antwerp. 

48.  ‘Some  say  that  he  began’  the  picture  of  Pope  Alexander  III  and 

Frederick  I in  the  Sala  del  Maggior  Consiglio  in  Venice. 

This  list  is  disappointing  in  the  same  way  as  the  previous 
one,  but,  nevertheless,  several  of  the  numbers  may  be  added 
to  the  list  of  pictures  which  are  preserved.  Besides  those 
already  noted  in  Vasari’s  list  Nos.  16,  17,  19  ( ?),  21,  23, 
26,  27,  30,  31,  38,  40,  exist  in  one  form  or  another,  but 
Nos.  17,  21,  23,  38  and  40,  though  still  preserved,  are  not  by 
Giorgione.  No.  17  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  Gior- 
gione, and  is  attributed  by  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  to  Por- 
denone.  Whether  this  is  by  him  is  more  than  doubtful ; I 
will  speak  of  it  in  detail  and  also  of  21  later.  No.  23,  called 
The  Bravo,  is  in  Vienna  and  is  perhaps  by  Cariani ; 30  is 


GIORGIONE 


163 


probably  by  Campagnola  and  is  known  by  copies.1  No.  38  is  in 
the  Brera  and  is  by  Dosso  Dossi,  who  was  also  the  painter  of 
40,  which  is  still  in  the  Borghese  Gallery.  No.  48  was  probably 
the  same  picture  as  that  mentioned  in  the  Venetian  archives 
under  date  of  August  14,  1507,  and  was  probably  destroyed  in 
the  fire  of  1575. 2 

Another  author  from  whom  we  are  able  to  gather  more  and 
important  information,  is  Marc  Antonio  Michiel,  more  com- 
monly known  as  the  Anonimo  Morelli.  Among  the  pictures 
which  he  saw  in  Venice  and  neighbouring  towns  were  several 
attributed  to  Giorgione: 

49.  Head  of  a boy  holding  an.  arrow.  Owned  by  Ant.  Pasqualino,  who 

obtained  it  from  Zuanne  Ram. 

50.  Head  of  San  Giacomo  holding  a pilgrim’s  staff.  Owned  by  Ant. 

Pasqualino. 

The  Anonimo  states  that  this  was  either  by  Giorgione  or  by  one  of 
his  pupils  and  that  it  was  copied  from  the  Christ  in  the  Church  of 
San  Rocco. 

51.  St.  Jerome,  nude,  seated  in  a desert  place  in  the  moonlight ; “copied 

from  a work  by  Giorgione.”  Owned  by  And.  Odoni. 

52.  Three  Philosophers.  Owned  by  Taddeo  Contarino. 

53.  Hell,  with  Tineas  and  Anchises.  Owned  by  Taddeo  Contarino. 

54.  Landscape  with  the  birth  of  Paris.  “One  of  his  early  works.” 

55.  Portrait  of  Geronimo  Marcello,  armed,  — the  body  turned  away 

from,  and  the  head  towards,  the  spectator.  Owned  by  Geronimo 
Marcello. 

Nude  Venus,  sleeping  in  the  open  air.  “The  landscape  and  the 
Cupid  were  finished  by  Titian.”  Owned  by  Geronimo  Marcello 
(same  as  No.  27). 

58.  St.  Jerome  reading.  Half  figure  (same  as  No.  35?).  Owned  by 

Geronimo  Marcello. 

59.  Soldier  armed,  but  without  a helmet.  Half  figure.  Owned  by 

Zuanantonio  Venier. 

60.  Head  of  a shepherd.  In  his  hand  a fruit.  Owned  by  Zuanne  Ram. 

Head  of  boy.  In  his  hand  an  arrow.  Owned  by  Zuanne  Ram 

(same  as  No.  49). 

1 Larpent,  “ Le  jugement  de  Paris  attribue  au  Giorgione,”  Christiania,  1885. 

2 See  Gronau,  Repertorium  fur  Kunstwissenchaft,  1908,  p.  405.  His  comment 
on  p.  407  seems  to  me  an  error. 


164 


STUDIES 


61.  Stormy  landscape  with  a gipsy  and  a soldier.  Owned  by  Gabriel 

Vendramin. 

62.  Dead  Christ  and  an  angel  holding  him  above  the  tomb.  Finished 

by  Titian.  Owned  by  Gabriel  Vendramin. 

63.  Nude  figure  in  a landscape.  Pen  drawing.  Owned  by  Michiel 

Contarini. 

64.  Finished  picture  of  No.  63.  Owned  by  Michiel  himself. 

65.  Portrait  of  Giorgione’s  father.  Owned  by  Piero  Servio. 

Of  this  list,  the  particular  value  of  which  lies  in  the  fact  that 
it  was  made  by  one  whose  early  years  were  probably  contem- 
porary with  the  close  of  Giorgione’s  life,  Nos.  52,  54,  61  and 
perhaps  62  1 are  still  (either  the  originals  or  copies)  in  exist- 
ence. No.  59  suggests  a picture  in  the  Colonna  Gallery  in 
Rome  which  has  much  Giorgionesque  feeling,  but  is  in  a ruined 
condition. 

Still  another  writer  who  mentions  several  pictures  by  the 
master  is  Giacomo  Barri.  I quote  the  passages  from  the  Eng- 
lish translation  of  his  book:2 

Page  106.  Castelfranco.  “Here  is  an  admirable  Picture  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin  with  her  Son,  the  work  of  Giorgione.  There  are  likewise  divers 
Palaces  near  adjacent  where  you  will  find  works  of  the  same  Giorgone  as 
also  of  Paulo  Veronese.”  (Same  as  No.  16.) 

Venice,  page  52.  “And  upon  a front  of  a House  near  the  house  of  the 
Pisani,  and  the  Palace  of  the  Flangini,  in  S.  Maria  Gibenigo,  there  are 
painted  by  the  hand  of  Giogone,  many  Freezes  in  Chiaro  Scuro,  in  Yellow, 
Red,  and  Green,  with  rare  fancies  of  Boys,  in  the  middle  of  which  are  four 
Half-figures,  viz.,  A Bacchus,  a Venus,  a Mars,  and  a Mercury,  coloured 
after  the  usual  manner  of  the  Author.”  (There  is  a note  added  to  the 
words  “the  usual  manner”  which  reads:  “Which  was  not  to  paint  in 
above  two  or  three  colours.”)  (Cf.  No.  20.) 

Page  56.  The  ‘Fontico  de  Todeseti’  is  mentioned.  (Same  as  No.  11.) 

Page  56.  “In  the  field  or  place  before  S.  Pauls  you  plainly  see  upon  the 
Front  of  the  House  of  Soranzo  several  Figures  of  Giorgone,  most  beautiful 
things.”  (Same  as  No.  10.) 

Page  67.  “The  albergo  of  the  said  school  [School  of  St.  Marks].  As 
you  enter,  the  first  square  on  your  left  hand  is  by  Giorgone .” 

1 Cf.  p.  52  f. 

2 The  Painter's  Voyage  of  Italy.  Englished  by  W.  Lodge.  Written  originally  in 
Italian  by  Giacomo  Barri,  1679. 


GIORGIONE 


165 


Page  84.  “ The  Church  of  the  Hospital  of  the  Incurabili.”  “And  over  a 

side  Door  of  the  Church  you  may  observe  a little  Square  of  our  Saviour 
carrying  the  Cross  and  an  Executioner  drawing  him  along,  by  the  hand  of 
Giorgone.”  (Same  as  No.  12.) 

Treviso,  page  97.  “The  Mountain  of  Piety  in  theaforesaid  City.”  “Here 
they  preserve  a Christ  with  a little  Angel,  a most  singular  work,  by  the 
hand  of  Giorgone.”  (Same  as  No.  17.) 

Cremona,  page  114.  “Here  is  a picture  of  S.  Sebastian  and  two  Angels 
by  the  hand  of  Giorgone.”  (Same  as  No.  38.) 

67.  Parma,  page  126.  In  the  Palace  of  the  Fontana.  “There  is  also  the 
picture  of  Fra  Sebastiano  del  Piombo,  a Painter,  the  work  of  Giorgone .” 

Only  two  pictures  (66,  67)  not  mentioned  by  the  other 
authors  are  given  in  this  list,  and  one  of  these,  the  portrait  of 
Sebastiano  del  Piombo,  has,  I believe,  been  lost  sight  of.  The 
picture  that  was  in  the  School  of  St.  Marks  now  hangs  in  the 
Academia  in  Venice.  It  represents  the  story  of  the  calming 
of  a storm  by  the  saints  Nicholas,  George  and  Mark.  Some 
students  consider  this  picture  to  be  a work  by  Giorgione  much 
repainted  by  Palma  or  Paris  Bordone.  Others,  with  whom  I 
agree,  fail  to  see  in  this  ugly  work  the  slightest  suggestion  of 
Giorgione. 

These  then  are  the  chief  early  sources  for  our  knowledge 
of  the  subjects  painted  by  Giorgione.  If  the  list  of  his  works 
seems  small,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  painter  was  only 
some  thirty-three  years  old  when  he  died.  The  inaccuracy  of 
the  attributions  made  by  these  writers  shows  how  careful  one 
must  be  in  dealing  with  the  information  they  give  us,  and  sug- 
gests the  reflection  that  probably  they  were  as  careless  in 
failing  to  speak  of  works  that  were  certainly  by  the  master 
as  they  were  in  mentioning  others  which  unquestionably  were 

not  by  him.  All  new  attributions  must,  however,  be  based  on 

*• 

a comparison  with  the  few  works  which  unbroken  tradition 
and  common  consent  give  to  Giorgione,  and  not  with  those 


166 


STUDIES 


about  which  trained  opinion  differs.  Individual  judgment  as 
to  the  likeness  one  picture  bears  to  another  is  very  different 
from  convincing  proof.  Before  criticising  individual  works 
we  must  consider  the  basis  for  discussion  that  the  lists  present. 

Of  the  sixty-seven  different  items  mentioned,  the  following 
are  known  to  us.1  1 ( ?),  2,  5 ( ?),  11,  12,  15,  16,  17,  19  ( ?), 
21  ( ?),  23,  26  ( ?),  27,  29  ( ?),  30,  31,  38,  40  ( ?),  42  ( ?),  52,  54, 
61,  62  ( ?),  66.  Of  these  only  2,  5 ( ?),  11,  12,  16,  21  ( ?),  22  ( ?), 
26  ( ?),  27,  31,  52,  54,  61,  62  ( ?)  need  be  considered  as  being 
related  in  any  close  way  to  Giorgione.  The  claims  of  Cariani, 
Licinio,  Della  Vecchia,  and  the  host  of  other,  generally  feeble, 
imitators  of  Giorgione  to  the  other  pictures  may  be  studied 
in  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  or  later  works.  Even  some  of  the 
works  included  in  the  small  list  just  given  are  not  accepted  as 
genuine  by  all  the  critics,  but  a few  there  are  the  authenticity 
of  which  could  only  be  questioned  by  bringing  much  more 
serious  evidence  against  them  than  I have  ever  seen  adduced. 
These  rare,  choice  works  are : 

2.  David,  armed,  holding  the  head  of  Goliath.  Now  in  Vienna.  This 
is  not  the  original,  but,  as  noted  by  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  a 
late  copy.  I own  another  copy,  on  panel,  which  shows  the  lower 
part  of  the  picture  better  than  the  Vienna  copy. 

11.  Frescoes  on  the  Fondaco  dei  Tedeschi.  Preserved,  except  a frag- 

ment only,  in  Zanetti’s  engravings. 

12.  Christ  carrying  the  Cross,  in  the  Church  of  San  Rocco,  Venice. 

16.  Madonna  enthroned,  in  the  Church  of  San  Liberale  in  Castelfranco. 

27.  Naked  Venus,  asleep,  in  Dresden.  Some  critics  still  hesitate  to 
accept  Morelli’s  attribution  of  this  canvas  to  Giorgione,  but  the 
greater  number  have,  I believe,  given  a ready  assent. 

31.  The  Judgment  of  Solomon.  Now  at  Kingston  Lacy  (Plate  LXII). 
This,  the  Castelfranco  Madonna,  and  the  Three  Philosophers,  are  in 
certain  ways  the  most  important  works  of  the  painter  now  existing. 

1 1 put  a question  mark  after  those  which  by  general  consent  are  no  longer 
attributed  to  Giorgione,  and  those  which  I doubt  and  shall  discuss  in  the  following 
pages. 


GIORGIONE 


167 


52.  Three  Philosophers.  In  Vienna  (Plate  LXVI). 

54.  Landscape  with  the  Birth  of  Paris.  A fragment  of  a poor  copy  of 
this  is  preserved  in  Buda-Pesth.  An  engraving  by  T.  van  Kessel 
from  a copy  of  the  picture  by  Teniers  shows  what  the  whole 
composition  was. 

61.  Stormy  landscape,  with  a gypsy  and  a soldier.  In  the  Palazzo 
Giovanelli,  Venice  (Plate  LXV). 

To  these  nine  unquestioned  works  by  Giorgione  are  to  be 
added  others  that  have  no  early  literary  evidence  to  bear 
out  their  claims  to  a Giorgionesque  origin,  but  which  unbroken 
tradition  resisting  even  the  assaults  of  modern  criticism  has 
assigned  to  this  category.  Such  are  : 

The  Judgment  of  Solomon,  in  the  Uffizi. 

The  Fire-test  of  Moses,  in  the  Uffizi. 

Knight  of  Malta,  in  the  Uffizi. 

Head  of  Christ  carrying  the  Cross,  formerly  in  the  Palazzo  Loschi  Vi- 
cenza, and  now  in  Mrs.  Gardner’s  Collection  in  Boston  (Plate  LXVII). 

Study  for  the  figure  of  San  Liberale,  in  the  Castelfranco  picture,  in  the 
National  Gallery,  London. 

So  far  as  the  giving  of  any  certain  knowledge  of  Giorgione’s 
technique  is  concerned,  the  first  three  of  these  pictures  are  very 
disappointing,  for  all  of  them  have  been  so  thoroughly  re- 
painted that  the  original  work  is  much  injured.  While  most 
critics  follow  the  tradition  and  believe  Giorgione  to  have  been 
the  painter  of  these  pictures,  there  are  those  who  do  not  hold 
this  opinion.  For  instance,  Dr.  Bode,  one  of  the  keenest 
judges  of  pictures,  does  not  think  the  Judgment  of  Solomon, 
and  the  Trial  of  Moses,  to  be  by  him.1  Others  there  are  who 
think  that  the  judgment  passed  by  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  on 
the  Knight  of  Malta  is  very  sound  and  satisfactory.  They 

1 It  is  noteworthy  that  the  backs  of  these  two  panels  have  patterns  painted  on 
them  showing  that  the  pictures  once  formed  part  of  some  piece  of  furniture,  and 
it  was  in  decorating  such  objects  that  much  of  Giorgione’s  time,  according  to 
Ridolfi,  was  employed.  For  Bode’s  remarks  cf.  Burchardt’s  Cicerone,  Vol.  II,  913. 


168 


STUDIES 


say:  “Giorgione’s  work  was  altered  by  later  retouching,  or 
the  painter  is  a skilful  imitator  of  Giorgione’s  manner.” 
Personally,  I believe  all  these  to  be  by  him. 

Taking  now  these  fragments  of  written  evidence  and  of 
tradition,  let  us  see  what  the  modern  writers  of  most  repute 
have  considered  to  be  examples  of  Giorgione’s  work.  To 
begin  with  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  they  give  as  true  Gior- 
giones the  following : 

The  Fondaco  de’  Tedeschi. 

The  Christ  in  San  Rocco. 

The  Judgment  of  Solomon  at  Kingston  Lacy. 

The  Chaldsean  Sages  (the  Three  Philosophers). 

The  Family  of  Giorgione  (the  picture  in  the  Giovanelli  Palace). 

The  Castelfranco  Madonna. 

The  David  in  Vienna,  of  which  they  say  “this  is  a late  copy,  perhaps 
after  the  original  noted  by  Vasari.” 

Of  the  traditional  pictures  they  consider  as  the  master’s  work  : 

The  Judgment  of  Solomon,  in  the  Uffizi. 

The  Trial  of  Moses,  in  the  Uffizi. 

The  Knight  of  Malta  ( ?),  in  the  Uffizi. 

They  add: 

The  Shepherd’s  Offering  in  the  Beaumont  (now  Lord  Allandale’s)  Collec- 
tion, London. 

The  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  in  the  National  Gallery,  London  ; formerly 
owned  by  Sir  William  Miles,  of  Leigh  Court. 

These  last  two  pictures  are  much  less  well  known  than  the 
others.  I shall  endeavour  to  show  that  the  later  attributions 
of  them  to  Catena  or  others  are  based  on  a mistaken  idea  of 
Giorgione’s  style  (not  to  mention  Catena’s),  and  that  Crowe 
and  Cavalcaselle  were  perfectly  right  in  their  estimate  of  them. 
Other  pictures  which  are  often  thought  of  in  connection  with 
Giorgione  and  which  they,  quite  rightly  I believe,  refused  to 
acknowledge,  are : 


GIORGIONE 


169 


The  Concert,  in  the  Pitti. 

The  Fete  Champetre,  in  the  Louvre. 

Madonna  and  Saints,  in  the  Louvre. 

Nymph  and  Satyr,  in  the  Pitti. 

The  Head  of  a Boy,  at  Hampton  Court. 

The  Madonna  and  Child  with  St.  Brigida,  in  Madrid. 

To  take  more  modern  writers,  we  find  a very  different  list 

of  works  attributed  to  Giorgione  by  Morelli.1  It  consists  of 

the  following : 

The  Trial  of  Moses. 

The  Judgment  of  Solomon.2 
The  Christ  bearing  the  Cross. 

The  Madonna  of  Castelfranco. 

The  Gypsy  and  the  Soldier  (Giovanelli  Palace). 

* The  Madonna  and  Child  with  Sts.  Antony  and  Roch.  (Madrid.) 
The  Knight  of  Malta. 

f * Daphne  and  Apollo.  This  is  in  the  Seminario  of  Sta  Maria  della 
Salute  in  Venice.  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  (II.  165)  attribute  it  to 
Andrea  Schiavone,  and  with  their  opinion  I agree. 

* The  Three  Ages  of  Man,  in  the  Uffizi,  ascribed  usually  to  Lotto. 

The  Concert,  in  the  Louvre.  (Same  as  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle’s  Fete 
Champetre.) 

The  Fragment  of  the  Birth  of  Paris,  in  the  Esterhazy  Gallery,  Buda-Pesth. 

* Portrait  of  a Man,  in  the  Esterhazy  Gallery. 

* Portrait  of  a Woman,  in  the  Borghese  Gallery,  Rome, 
f Nymph  and  Satyr,  in  the  Pitti. 

f Portrait  of  a Youth,  in  Berlin, 
f Head  of  a Boy,  in  Hampton  Court. 

Three  Philosophers,  in  Vienna. 

* Venus  in  Dresden. 

f Allegory,  in  Dresden.  These  Morelli  considers  copies 

f Judith,  in  St.  Petersburg.  of  Giorgione’s  work. 

The  pictures  I have  marked  with  an  asterisk  are  those  which 
Morelli  was  the  first  to  claim  with  insistence  for  Giorgione, 

1 Die  Galerien  zu  Munchen  und  Dresden  (Leipzig,  1891),  p.  270  f. 

2 Morelli  adds  the  following  note : “Weder  die  Herren  Crowe  und  Cavalcaselli, 
noch  Herr  Director  W.  Bode  lassen  diese  zwei  Bildchen  alz  Werke  des  Giorgione 
gelten,  sondern  sehen  dieselben  als  Schiilerarbeiten  an.”  So  far  as  Crowe  and 
Cavalcaselle  are  concerned,  this  statement  is  an  error,  as  one  can  easily  see  by  read- 
ing what  they  say  on  pp.  128-9  of  the  second  volume  of  their  History  of  Painting 
in  North  Italy. 


170 


STUDIES 


and  with  the  exception  of  the  Venus  not  one  of  these  attribu- 
tions has  been  generally  accepted.  Those  marked  with  a dagger 
are  attributions  of  older  or  younger  date.  About  all  of  them, 
certain  doubts,  and  about  most  of  them  doubts  of  very  seri- 
ous nature,  must  be  dispelled,  before  the  attribution  can  be 
accepted. 

The  two  points  most  noticeable  in  Morelli’s  list  are  the 
differences  in  the  style  of  the  pictures  included  and  the  ab- 
sence of  others.  It  would  be  difficult  to  combine  works  more 
dissimilar  than  the  Berlin  portrait  of  a youth  and  the  portrait 
of  a woman  in  the  Borghese,  and  even  if  one  grants  that  an 
artist  working  at  the  time  when  Giorgione  flourished  was  sub- 
jected to  influences  so  strong  and  varied  that  the  character 
of  his  work  altered  from  time  to  time,  it  can  only  be  explained 
by  a miracle  that  the  same  man  painted  the  Castelfraneo 
Madonna  and  the  Daphne  and  Apollo.  Even  the  last  dashing 
works  of  the  century-old  Titian  differ  hardly  more  from  his 
calmer  earlier  canvases  than  do  these  two  pictures,  which 
Morelli  would  have  us  believe  were  painted  by  a man  who  died 
at  the  age  of  thirty -two  or  thirty-three.  This  curious,  one  may 
not  unfairly  say  erratic,  combination  of  Morelli  may  perhaps 
be  explained  by  supposing,  as  is  true  in  other  parts  of  his  work, 
that  he  was  so  taken  up  with  the  similarity  of  certain  details 
that  he  forgot  to  study  the  larger  and  more  telling  char- 
acteristics of  the  pictures.  But  what  explanation  is  there 
of  his  strange  silence  regarding  the  Benson1  and  Beaumont 
pictures,  the  Judgment  of  Solomon  at  Kingston  Lacy,  the 
Vienna  David,  and  the  Christ  bearing  the  Cross  in  San 
Rocco  ? 

1 1 have  not  yet  mentioned  this  picture,  but  shall  speak  of  it  in  detail  later. 


GIORGIONE 


171 


A later  and  slightly  different  form  of  the  Morelli  list  is  given 

by  Berenson.1  It  is  as  follows  : 

Berlin,  Portrait  of  a Man. 

Buda-Pesth,  Portrait  of  a Man. 

Castelfranco,  Duomo,  Madonna  with  Sts.  Francis  and  Liberale. 
Dresden,  Sleeping  Venus. 

Florence,  Uffizi,  Trial  of  Moses  ; Knight  of  Malta ; Judgment  of  Solomon. 
Hampton  Court,  Shepherd  with  Pipe. 

Madrid,  Madonna  with  Sts.  Roch  and  Antony  of  Padua. 

Paris,  Fete  Champetre. 

Rome,  Villa  Borghese,  Portrait  of  a Lady. 

St.  Petersburg,  Judith  (?). 

Venice,  Academy,  Storm  calmed  by  St.  Mark.  Finished  in  small  part 
by  P.  Bordone.  (In  the  edition  of  1894,  Berenson  attributed  this  to 
P.  Bordone,  saying  that  perhaps  it  was  begun  by  Giorgione.) 

Venice,  Seminario,  Apollo  and  Daphne ; Giovanelli,  Gypsy  and  Soldier ; 
S.  Rocco,  Christ  bearing  Cross. 

Vicenza,  Casa  Loschi,  Christ  bearing  Cross.  (Now  in  the  Gardner 
Collection,  Boston.) 

Vienna,  Evander  showing  iEneas  the  Site  of  Rome.  (Often  called  the 
Three  Philosophers.) 

In  an  article  2 published  since  the  appearance  of  his  book, 

Berenson  has  added  to  the  above  list  several  pictures  which  he 

considers  to  be  copies  of  Giorgiones.  They  are : 

Bergamo,  Orpheus  and  Eurydice.  The  copy  made  by  Cariani. 
Buda-Pesth,  Two  men  walking.  Fragment.  (This  is  what  Morelli 
calls  the  Birth  of  Paris.) 

Milan,  Portrait  of  a lady,  belonging  to  Signor  Crespi. 

St.  Petersburg,  Judith. 

London,  Portrait  of  a man  formerly  belonging  to  Mr.  Doetsch;  now 
owned  by  Colonel  Kemp. 

1 The  Venetian  Painters  of  the  Renaissance,  p.  107. 

2 Gazette  des  Beaux  Arts,  October,  1897. 


II.  THE  TRUE  GIORGIONE 


A superficial  study  of  the  lists  which  have  been  given  suf- 
fices to  show  that  the  various  critics  have  very  different 
standards  by  which  to  judge  Giorgione  and  his  works.  I 
much  doubt  whether  entire  order  can  be  brought  out  of  the 
chaos  that  now  rules,  but  a sounder  basis  for  future  study 
can  be  derived  from  a combination  of  the  best  points  of  the 
work  of  these  very  differently  endowed  critics  than  any  one 
of  them  by  himself  offers. 

So  far  as  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  go,  they  are,  I believe, 
entirely  right.  Among  the  twelve  pictures  which  they  un- 
hesitatingly ascribe  to  Giorgione,  only  three  have  been  ques- 
tioned by  any  one.  These  three  are,  the  Judgment  of  Solomon, 
at  Kingston  Lacy,  the  Epiphany,  in  the  National  Gallery,  and 
the  Beaumont  Shepherd’s  Offering.  % The  only  possible 
explanation  of  the  fact  that  Morelli  does  not  mention  the 
picture  at  Kingston  Lacy  is  that  he  did  not  see  it.1  It  is  one 

1 Berenson  in  the  first  edition  of  his  little  book  on  Venetian  Painting  did  not 
mention  it  either,  but  in  the  third  edition  he  passes  it  by  with  these  words  : “The 
scarcely  less  famous  picture  belonging  to  Mr.  Banks  is  by  the  hand  which  painted 
the  Christ  and  Adulteress,  of  the  Glasgow  Corporation  Gallery,  and  that  hand 
is  Giovanni  Cariani’s.  To  repeat,  I would  have  preferred  to  publish  opinions  so 
divergent  from  those  usually  received,  in  a form  adequate  to  the  importance  of 
the  theme ; but  I console  myself  with  the  belief  that  the  merest  indication  suffices 
the  competent.  As  for  the  others  — Procul  o procul  este,  profani.” 

Such  statements  can  only  be  excused  by  supposing  the  writer  to  have  been  pressed 
for  time.  Unless  they  are  of  sufficient  importance  for  the  author  to  make  them  in- 
telligible, they  are  not  entitled  to  our  consideration.  No  critic  is  justified  in  making 
an  arbitrary  statement  which  he  will  not  take  the  pains  to  make  clear. 


172 


GIORGIONE 


173 


of  those  works  that  in  every  touch  show  the  author.  Even 
if  we  did  not  have  Ridolfi’s  evidence  for  the  existence  of  such 
a work,  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  hesitation  could  arise 
in  the  mind  of  any  one  undisturbed  by  theories  as  to  the  author 
of  the  picture.  The  figure  of  the  executioner  is,  as  Ridolfi 
says,  unfinished.  So,  too,  is  practically  the  whole  picture 
(Plate  LXII). 

What  strikes  one  at  first  sight  is  the  similarity  to  Bellini’s 
work  at  the  same  time  that  one  realises  a development  of 
dramatic  power  greater  than  he  ever  attained.  The  fine 
restraint  of  composition  is  his,  the  serious  and  painstaking 
technique  is  his,  but  the  dramatic  energy  displayed  in  the 
action  of  the  several  figures  is  a step  beyond  anything  which 
Bellini  ever  accomplished.  And  the  few  undoubted  works 
show  that  Giorgione  was  great  enough  to  compose  with  the 
same  grandeur,  and  work  with  a similar  perfection  to  Bellini, 
and  yet  give  more  dramatic  intensity  to  his  figures.  But  if 
any  one  is  blind  to  the  spirit  that  permeates  this  wonderful 
bit  of  poetry,  let  him  study  the  details.  The  head  of  the 
youth  standing  upright  on  Solomon’s  right  hand  is  most 
closely  allied  to  that  of  the  seated  figure  in  the  Three  Phi- 
losophers. The  old  man  on  the  left  of  Solomon  is  in  his  turn 
very  similar  to  the  oldest  of  the  Three  Philosophers.  Com- 
pare the  hand  of  the  second  figure  from  the  right  with  the  left 
hand  of  the  last-mentioned  Philosopher:  it  is  the  same. 

The  tight  drawn  hair  of  the  women  is  the  same  as  that  of 
the  Castelfranco  Madonna  and  the  Gypsy  in  the  Giovanelli 
Palace  picture.  The  strong,  broad,  full-toed,  carefully  drawn 
feet  are  what  we  see  in  the  Three  Philosophers,  and  the  St. 
Francis  of  the  Castelfranco  picture.  The  full-lipped,  small, 


174 


STUDIES 


quietly  closed  but  expressive  mouths  of  the  figures  are  such  as 
distinguish  Giorgione’s  other  unquestioned  works  and  show  a 
master’s  touch.  The  draperies  massed  in  grand,  simple  style, 
broken  only  by  folds  that  truly  show  the  quality  of  the  stuff  or 
its  arrangement  — that  are  not  merely  put  in  out  of  pure  fancy 
— are  like  those  that  characterise  the  Castelfranco  Madonna 
and  the  Three  Philosophers.  There  is  no  refuting  the  judg- 
ment passed  by  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle.  This  is  a true 
Giorgione  and  in  certain  ways  the  finest  of  them  all. 

I have  refrained  from  comparing  it  with  the  Dresden  Venus 
for  the  reason  that  this  discovery  of  Morelli’s  has  been,  though 
I believe  on  insufficient  grounds,  disputed,  and  some  critics 
question  whether  the  Venus  is  not  a work  of  Titian.  The 
evidence  with  which  Morelli  maintained  the  Giorgionesque 
origin  of  the  work  is  very  convincing,  but  there  is  a quality 
of  the  work  upon  which  he  did  not  lay  sufficient  stress.  I 
refer  to  the  lack  of  sensuousness  in  the  figure.  It  is  the  lack 
of  this  mundane  quality,  the  abstractness  of  the  figure,  that 
renders  it  ideal,  which  allies  this  work  with  the  finest  Greek 
sculpture,  with  figures  of  the  Periclean  epoch.  The  nude 
female  figure  is  thought  of  not  from  a sexual  standpoint,  but 
from  that  of  pure  beauty  of  form.  To  represent  such  feeling 
was  unlike  Titian  even  in  the  most  earnestly  ideal  of  his  youth- 
ful days.  His  work  in  almost  every  case  has  a glow  of  passion  ; 
Giorgione’s,  on  the  contrary,  suggests  loveliness  that  deserves 
the  deepest  admiration,  but  does  not  suggest  actual  human 
life  and  action.  The  two  ideals  are  the  poles  asunder. 
Titian’s  is  that  of  the  man,  Giorgione’s  that  of  the  woman.  As 
Coleridge  said,  “Man  loves  the  woman,  but  woman  loves  the 
love  of  the  man,”  and  when  one  looks  at  Titian’s  Venuses  or 


Plate  LXIV. 


GIORGIONE 


175 


his  other  female  figures,  one  is  inevitably  more  vigorously 
self-conscious  and  one’s  attention  is  more  indissolubly  bound 
to  the  body  than  when  one’s  eyes  rest  on  the  statuesque 
beauties  of  the  Castelfranco  painter’s  imaginings. 

The  method  by  which  these  effects  are  depicted  is  unmistak- 
able and  clear.  In  Titian’s  figures  of  nude  women  the  glance 
of  the  eye  is  often  distinctly  and  sharply  focussed  in  the  eye 
of  the  beholder,  and  the  action  of  the  figure  is  motived  by  the 
presence  of  the  beholder.  The  painted  image  is  the  corollary 
of  the  being  that  looks  upon  her.  It  is  not  so  in  Giorgione’s 
work.  His  Venus  is  self-contained,  self-centred  and  thought- 
less of  the  outer  world.  The  eyes  (cf.  the  Giovanelli  picture) 
do  not  strongly  draw  yours  to  themselves,  and  the  action  does 
not  imply  a realisation  of  the  presence  of  any  interested  gazer. 
For  exactly  these  reasons,  plain  simple  reasons,  but  of  deepest 
import,  the  Venus  of  Praxiteles  is  of  inestimably  greater 
worth  than  that  later  impersonation  of  female  vigour  and 
physical  delight,  the  Venus  de’  Medici.  And  in  similar  man- 
ner Giorgione  proves  himself  a man  and  an  artist  who  at- 
tained to  the  adequate  presentation  of  an  ideal  of  beauty  of 
the  female  figure  far  more  elevated  and  uplifting  than  that 
held  by  his  more  famous  contemporary  Titian.  The  Venus 
may,  as  Morelli  said,  be  safely  considered  as  a true  Giorgione. 

The  case  is  not  so  clear,  though  I believe  it  is  not  less  un- 
questionable, when  we  consider  the  Epiphany  1 of  the  National 
Gallery  (Plate  LXIII).  The  criticism  passed  by  Crowe  and 
Cavalcaselle  on  this  picture  and  the  Shepherd’s  Offering  in 
the  Beaumont  Collection  is,  so  far  as  it  goes,  sound.  They 

1 This  picture  was  formerly  called  a Bellini.  It  comes  from  the  collection  of 
Sir  William  Miles  of  Leigh  Court.  See  Redford,  Art  Sales,  I,  pp.  364-5. 


176 


STUDIES 


say  of  these  pictures  “that  the  style  coincides  with  that  which 
historians  attribute  to  Giorgione;  that  most  of  the  charac- 
teristics which  predominate  recur  in  canvases  registered  by 
the  oldest  authorities  as  those  of  Barbarelli ; and  that  the 
landscapes  in  every  case  resemble  each  other  and  recall  the 
country  of  Castelfranco.”  There  is  much  more  proof,  how- 
ever, that  can  be  adduced  to  show  that  only  Giorgione  could 
have  painted  these  works.  But  first  the  attribution  of  them 
both  to  Catena  1 must  be  shown  to  be  groundless. 

A word,  however,  in  regard  to  logical  reasoning  about  pic- 
tures, the  lack  of  which  constitutes  a great  weakness  in  Morelli 
and  some  of  his  followers,  may  perhaps  be  deemed  not  inap- 
propriate here.  Circumstantial  evidence  is  at  best  only  par- 
tially conclusive.  Morelli  did  some  brilliant  work  by  its 
means  in  correcting  the  names  under  which  many  pictures 
had  masqueraded.  Such  work  must,  it  is  self-evident,  be 
founded  on  the  signed  works  of  the  masters  or  on  works  whose 
authorship  is  proved  by  literary  evidence  of  the  strongest 
character.  But  he  and  his  followers  seem  to  forget  that  others 
may  refuse  adherence  to  the  belief  in  one  or  more  of  these 
attributions  and  yet  not  be  utterly  foolish.  Many  minds  are 
convinced  by  evidence  which  to  other  equally  capable  and 
well-trained  intelligences  does  not  carry  the  force  of  convic- 
tion, or  may  even  seem  to  be  based  on  a misapprehension  of 
fundamental  facts.  Grant,  however,  that  a given  attribution 
of  an  unsigned  work  seems  reasonable,  still  there  are  in  most 
such  cases  parts  of  it  that  are  to  a certain  extent  dissimilar 
to  the  certified  works  of  the  master  to  whom  it  is  attributed 
— otherwise  it  would  never  have  been  falsely  named. 

1 Berenson,  Venetian  Painters  of  the  Renaissance. 


GIORGIONE 


177 


Were  this  not  true,  how  had  doubt  ever  arisen  in  men’s 
minds  as  to  who  wrote  the  Rhesus,  or  when  the  Apollo 
Belvedere  was  made  ? Suppose  now  that  in  studying  a pic- 
ture and  attributing  it  to  an  artist  one  finds  a second  or  a 
third  or  a fourth  picture  that  seems  to  be  by  the  same  painter. 
One  sees  that  each  has  certain  points  in  common  with  the 
signed  works  and  others  common  only  to  the  unsigned  work 
which  was  the  first  of  our  new  attributions.  To  deduce  from 
the  similarity  which  any  two  of  the  unsigned  works  bear  to  each 
other  in  their  differences  from  the  signed  works  of  the  author 
to  whom  it  is  desired  to  attribute  them,  that  they  must  be  by 
this  author,  is  an  absolutely  illogical  and  unreasonable  method 
of  argument.  One  can  ‘prove’  anything  in  this  way,  which 
could  without  difficulty  enable  one  to  show  that  the  Two 
Loves  of  the  Borghese  Gallery  was  painted  by  Perugino. 
All  that  is  needed  is  a sufficiently  large  list  of  works  each  dif- 
fering slightly  from  Perugino’s  true  masterpieces.  It  is  but 
another  form  of  the  old  game  of  turning  one  word  into  another 
by  adding  and  subtracting  syllables.  Thus  one  turns  drama 
into  odious:  drama,  melodrama,  melodious,  odious. 

Unfortunately  Morelli  did  not  realise  the  weakness  of  this 
system.  Had  he  done  so,  he  would  never  have  attributed  to 
Catena  the  Epiphany  of  the  National  Gallery,  and  his  fol- 
lowers would  not  consider  the  same  artist  as  the  painter  of 
the  Benson  Holy  Family  and  the  Beaumont  Shepherd’s 
Offering.1  I do  not  mean  to  imply  that  he  would  have  con- 

1 See  Archivio  Storico  dell’  Arte,  1895,  I,  p.  77.  In  this  passage  the  writer  (Miss 
Ffoulkes)  speaking  of  an  exhibition  in  London  mentions  the  Benson  picture  and  the 
Epiphany.  She  thinks  them  by  neither  Giorgione,  nor  Catena,  but  offers  no  sug- 
gestion as  to  the  painter  except  that  there  is  another  picture  by  him  in  the  Venice 
Accademia  attributed  (wrongly)  to  Cordegliaghi. 

N 


178 


STUDIES 


sidered  Giorgione  as  their  author,  but  it  is  only  by  strained 
and  extravagant  reasoning  that  they  can  be  claimed  for  Ca- 
tena. They  bear  no  resemblance  in  either  composition,  colour 
or  idea  to  any  of  the  unquestioned  works  by  this  second-rate 
pupil  of  Bellini,  the  imitator,  par  excellence , of  the  work  of  his 
greater  contemporaries. 

So  far  as  a careful  analysis  enables  one  to  make  out  from  the 
context  of  the  whole  passage  in  which  Morelli  speaks  of  these 
works,1  he  seems  to  have  convinced  himself  that  Catena  was 
the  painter  of  the  Epiphany  because  of  the  similarities  that 
exist  between  it  and  the  Knight  adoring  the  Infant  Christ 
and  the  St.  Jerome  in  his  Study  in  the  same  Gallery.  The 
first  thing  to  notice  is  that  the  likeness  which  the  Epiphany 
bears  to  the  St.  Jerome  is  almost  entirely  imaginary.  The 
chief  difference  between  the  two  works  is  that  the  Epiphany 
is  not  only  painted  in  a very  different  manner  technically, 
but  it  is  much  less  laboured.  It  shows  vastly  greater  facility 
of  draughtsmanship ; the  execution  is  very  much  more  easy; 
the  colour  is  fuller  and  purer ; the  chiaroscuro  is  more  varied, 
and,  finally,  it  is  much  more  imaginatively  conceived.  It  gives 
one,  in  fact,  the  impression  of  being  by  a master,  whereas  the  St. 
Jerome  seems  nothing  more  either  in  imagination  or  in  tech- 
nique than  the  work  of  a careful,  serious,  arid-minded  student. 

The  St.  Jerome  in  fact  may  well  be  by  Catena,  for  these  are 
the  qualities  with  which  we  know  he  was  endowed.  The  simi- 
larity between  the  Epiphany  and  the  Knight  adoring  the 
Infant  Christ  is  greater,  but  still  not  very  great.2  But  here 

1 Die  Galerie  zu  Dresden,  p.  266  f. 

2 It  is  noteworthy  that  Morelli  claimed  (as  is  shown  by  the  + with  which  the 
attribution  is  marked)  to  be  the  first  to  show  that  this  picture  of  the  Knight 
was  by  Catena.  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  had  already  written  of  the  picture  as  by 


GIORGIONE 


179 


too  we  must  remember  that  the  attribution  of  the  Knight 
to  Catena  is  based  not  so  much  even  on  good  circumstantial 
evidence  as  on  the  fairly  unanimous  belief  among  those  capa- 
ble of  judging  what  certain  phases  of  Catena’s  changing  style 
probably  resembled.  But  the  points  wherein  the  Epiphany 
surpassed  the  St.  Jerome  are  just  those  in  which  it  shows 
greater  mastery  than  is  exhibited  in  the  Knight.  The  same 
stiffness  and  awkwardness  of  drawing  mark  the  Knight  as 
by  an  artist  of  much  less  capacity  than  him  of  the  Epiphany. 

So  too  does  the  clumsy,  empty  composition.  The  small- 
featured  faces,  the  lack  of  appearance  of  real  substance  in  the 
bodies,  the  dull  and  uninteresting  chiaroscuro,  the  laboured 
technique  are  characteristic  of  Catena,  but  not  one  of  them 
shows  in  the  Epiphany.  Catena  may  well  have  painted 
the  beast  like  a hobby  horse  which  the  Knight’s  page  holds, 
but  it  was  an  abler  hand  than  his  which  drew  the  horses  from 
which  the  Magi  have  dismounted.  The  crinkly,  crushed 
draperies  in  the  Knight  are  similar  to  Catena’s  work,  but 
there  is  nothing  like  them  in  the  Epiphany,  where  the  glow- 
ing coloured  garments  are  cast  in  simpler  and  grander  and 
at  the  same  time  more  natural  lines.  Can  any  one  really 
imagine  that  the  same  man  painted  the  dull,  hard,  conven- 


Catena.  Considerable  care  must  be  exercised  in  the  use  of  Morelli’s  writings  to 
distinguish  between  his  true  discoveries  (which  were  many)  and  his  agreements 
with  earlier  authorities.  It  may  be  that  these  agreements  were  based  on  his  own 
private  study,  but  there  is  a great  difference  between  the  result  of  one’s  study  lead- 
ing to  our  giving  assent  to  what  others  have  perceived  before  us  and  our  discovery 
of  what  had  never  been  imagined  by  our  predecessors.  Pereant  qui  ante  nos  nostra 
dixerint,  but  still  honesty  and  justice  are  of  greater  value  than  fame.  Nor  does 
a pleasant  temper  show  in  the  implied  sarcasm  of  Morelli’s  words  about  this  picture 
which  he  calls  a “herrliches  Werk  des  Catena,  obwohl  es  im  Galeriekatalog  noch 
immerfort  bios  der  Schule  des  Giambellino  zugethielt  wird  (+)•”  It  is  surely  not 
so  very  inaccurate  to  describe  a work  by  Catena  as  of  the  ‘Schule  des  Giambellino.’ 


180 


STUDIES 


tional  head  of  St.  Joseph  in  the  Knight  and  the  much  more 
thoughtful  and  original  face  of  the  same  figure  in  the  Epiph- 
any ? or  how  can  any  one  believe  that  the  same  artist 
designed  heads  of  such  different  shape,  eyes  and  noses  and 
mouths  so  unlike  in  the  one  and  the  other  work  ; hands  in 
the  Knight  so  like  turtles’  feet,  and  so  vigorous  and  human 
in  the  Epiphany  ? It  is  surely  improbable,  and  Crowe  and 
Cavalcaselle  were  right  when  they  recognised  a great  differ- 
ence between  the  two  works  and  saw  in  the  smaller,  richer 
one  the  hand  of  Giorgione.  The  reasoner  who  is  calm  and 
unpolemically  minded  must  agree  with  them. 

The  next  picture  for  us  to  consider  is  the  Beaumont  Shep- 
herd’s Offering  which  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  give  to  Gior- 
gione, but  which  is  by  Berenson  and  others  considered  a 
Catena.1  If  the  Epiphany  were  a Catena,  then  the  Shep- 
herd’s Offering  would  be  also,  for  not  only  the  treatment  and 
colour  as  a whole,  but  the  details,  more  particularly  the  group 
of  the  Holy  Family,  is  distinctly  alike  in  both.  The  same 
reasons  that  show  that  it  is  impossible  that  Catena  ever 
painted  the  Epiphany  apply  with  even  greater  force  to  the 
Shepherd’s  Offering.  Both  pictures  are  utterly  unlike  Ca- 
tena’s work  in  all  essential  points,  all  those,  that  is  to  say, 
which  are  the  expression  of  character.  Certain  Giorgionesque 
qualities  show  more  strongly  in  the  Shepherd’s  Offering  than 
in  the  smaller  work.  I will  not  analyse  the  details  of  form, 
substantiality  of  masses  and  richness  of  colour,  for  every  un- 
prejudiced eye  will  see  that  they  are  the  same  in  each  of  these 

1 A copy  of  this  picture  hangs  in  the  Vienna  Gallery  and  I was  told  by  the  Director 
in  1901  that  he  considered  it  the  original ; but  this  seems  to  me  impossible,  for 
it  is  much  less  good  in  every  way  than  the  Beaumont  picture.  A drawing  of  a por- 
tion of  it  is  at  Windsor. 


Plate  LXY 


GIORGIONE 


181 


two  works  as  they  are  in  the  unquestioned  works  by  Giorgione. 
But  there  is  a quality  more  difficult  to  analyse  and  to  express 
in  fixed  terms,  that  stamps  the  Shepherd’s  Offering  not  only 
as  a work  by  Giorgione,  but  as  a very  characteristic  expression 
of  his  genius.  I refer  to  the  impression  given  by  the  quietness 
of  the  scene,  by  the  slight  vagueness  of  it  all,  and  to  the  colour 
and  chiaroscuro  that  remind  one  of  an  evening  landscape 
(Plate  LXIV).  All  these  points  taken  together  make  the 
scene  seem  mysterious  and  dreamlike. 

Now,  clearly  enough,  this  romantic  quality  occurs  to  a greater 
or  less  extent  in  all  the  unquestioned  Giorgiones.  It  is  the 
deep  religious  ardour  of  Bellini  turned  to  a broader  field.  It  is 
the  sharp  focussed  passion  of  Titian  transmuted  into  an  abid- 
ing love  for  all  things  beautiful.  In  the  Giovanelli  Landscape 
(Plate  LXV)  you  see  it  in  the  strange  combination  of  soldier 
and  nude  woman  under  the  lightning-riven  skies  and  the  trees 
heavy  and  white  with  the  storm.  In  the  Three  Philosophers 
you  see  it  in  the  contrast  of  the  three  men  of  different  ages 
and  the  quiet  forest  where  they  sit  with  the  city  in  the  dis- 
tance that  seems  to  be  asleep  (Plate  LX VI).  In  the  Virgin 
of  Castelfranco  you  see  it  in  the  throne  placed  in  the  open 
meadows  peopled  by  visionlike  figures,  in  the  deeply  impres- 
sive silence  and  contrast  of  the  monk  and  warrior,  and  in  the 
still  blue  sea  lapping  the  templed  shores  beyond.  You  see 
it  in  the  Venus, — not  any  one  woman  so  much  as  the  presenta- 
tion of  everlasting  feminine  beauty  — sleeping  under  the  open 
sky  across  which  roll  great  summer  clouds  rising  from  the 
distant  sea.  It  is  present  almost  invariably  in  his  work  and 
forms  the  chief  richness  of  the  Beaumont  picture,  in  which  the 
strangely  silent  group  under  the  trees,  the  empty  shepherd’s 


182 


STUDIES 


hut  beyond  and  the  deep  distance  of  rolling,  castelled  hills 
and  meadows,  golden  in  the  light  of  the  low  sun,  is  like  a vision 
that  one  sees  in  those  rare  moments  when  one’s  eyes  pierce 
the  husk  of  this  world  and  we  seem  for  one  treasured  instant 
to  have  passed  the  borders  and  be  wandering  in  El  Dorado. 

In  none  of  Catena’s  authentic  works  does  he  attain  to  such 
a height  of  imaginative  presentation  of  daily  phenomena. 
He  could  appreciate  it,  as  is  shown  by  his  attempt  in  the 
Knight  to  paint  in  the  manner  of  Giorgione,  but  that  pic- 
ture alone  would  be  sufficient  to  show  his  incapacity  to  attain 
the  goal  at  which  he  aimed.  Nor  is  this  feeling  which  we 
derive  from  Giorgione’s  works  imaginary  and  based  on  pre- 
conceived ideas.  It  is  distinctly  due  to  certain  indubitable 
facts.  No  one  questions  the  mystery  and  inexpressible  beauty 
of  the  light  of  early  dawn  or  evening,  and  it  is  this  rather 
than  the  full,  hard,  mid-day  glare  that  is  the  light  of  all  Gior- 
gione’s pictures.  Nor  is  there  doubt  of  the  impressiveness  of 
gloom,  be  it  of  forest  or  of  storm,  and  such  mystery  as  this  was 
dear  to  the  hill-born  artist.  Nor,  further,  can  one  hesitate  to 
admit  the  visionary,  mirage-like  appearance  of  vigorous  action 
that  takes  place  in  silence  and  of  which  the  anatomical  details 
are  suppressed.  Such  is  the  action  of  Giorgione’s  figures. 
They  are  plainly  deeply  interested  in  the  scene  of  which  they 
form  part,  but  their  faces  (even  in  the  Judgment  of  Solomon 
at  Kingston  Lacy)  show  their  interest  rather  by  the  eyes  than 
by  the  lips.  They  look,  but  do  not  speak.  Like  Greek  Gods 
they  act,  but  with  terrible  great  silence. 

And  so,  too,  though  the  bodies  of  his  figures  are  full  of  life  and 
action,  yet  they  rarely  show  the  tense  and  emphasised  muscles 
appropriate  to  such  action,  but  appear  rather,  having  acted, 


GIORGIONE 


183 


to  be  now  at  rest.  A similar  peculiarity  is  to  be  observed  in 
the  draperies  which,  just  as  I have  tried  to  show  in  regard  to 
the  figure  of  the  Venus,  are  of  the  same  nature  as  the  best 
Greek  work.  They  are  completely  motived,  that  is,  by  the 
bodies  beneath  them.  They  are  a positive  component  part 
of  the  figure,  not  merely  an  accidental  addition,  and  they 
rest  and  move  with  it.  Thus,  as  the  bodies  seem  to  be  resting 
after  motion,  so  the  draperies  seem  to  be  also.  They  show 
none  of  the  little,  trifling,  momentary  folds  that  express 
actual  motion,  but  merely  those  larger,  more  essential  lines 
and  masses  that  are  truly  expressive  of  the  vitality  and  move- 
ment of  the  figures,  whose  beauty  they  enhance,  so  far  as 
such  life  and  activity  can  be  expressed  by  woven  stuffs. 

Let  us  turn  now  to  Catena,  his  Sta.  Caterina,  or  his  Virgin 
Enthroned,  in  Venice,  and  we  see  draperies  that  are  in  large 
measure  as  merely  studio  studies  of  cloth  as  any  to  which 
Albert  Diirer  ever  attached  hands  and  feet  and  a head  and 
called  it  a human  being.  The  folds  do  not  carry  out  the  action 
of  the  figure,  but  crinkle  and  ripple  and  break  in  meaningless 
profusion  from  shoulder  to  ankle.  Giorgione  was  a richly 
imaginative,  deeply  thoughtful  genius,  and  such  a personality 
as  this  is  indelibly  stamped  in  the  Epiphany,  the  Shep- 
herd’s Offering,  and  the  Benson  Holy  Family.  Catena  was 
a fashionable  plagiarist  and  moderately  successful  imitator 
of  the  manner  of  his  master  Bellini  and  of  his  great  contem- 
poraries ; such  a character  as  his  is  completely  foreign  to  the 
spirit  of  these  three  pictures. 

The  Holy  Family,1  one  of  the  many  treasures  of  Mr. 

1 Parts  of  Mr.  Benson’s  picture  have  suffered  from  repainting.  This  is  especially 
true  of  the  landscape,  which  seems  to  have  lost  its  original  form. 


184 


STUDIES 


Benson’s  collection,  is  also  given  by  Berenson,  and  by  others, 
to  Catena.  The  Virgin  and  Joseph  are,  as  one  sees  at  first 
sight,  the  same  figures  as  in  the  two  preceding  works.  I will 
not  unfold  the  argument  again.  The  picture  is  to  be  attrib- 
uted to  Giorgione  for  the  same  reasons  that  show  the  two 
other  pictures  to  be  his.  One  proof  may  be  added  to  those 
adduced  before,  and  this  is  the  pebbly  surface  of  the  ground. 
The  same  treatment  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Judgment  of  Solo- 
mon, and  the  Trial  of  Moses,  in  the  Uffizi,  in  the  Three 
Philosophers,  in  the  Giovanelli  Landscape;  and  in  this 
last  picture  the  painting  of  the  brick  work  below  the  column 
is  the  same  as  that  of  the  building  beside  which  the  Holy 
Family  are  seated  in  Mr.  Benson’s  picture.  Catena  could 
as  easily  have  painted  Bellini’s  Loredano  as  this  head  of  St. 
Joseph,  as  fine  a head  in  its  grandeur  of  mould  and  simple 
earnestness  of  expression  as  was  ever  given  to  this  too  often 
maligned  Saint.  It  is  a Giorgione,  and  a fine  one. 

The  picture  of  Christ  carrying  the  Cross  in  the  Church 
of  San  Rocco  in  Venice  is  by  Morelli 1 said  to  be  “ gewiss  ein 
ganz  fruhes  Werk”  of  Titian.  Considering  that  he  does  not 
give  a single  proof  of  this  assertion,  we  may  be  forgiven  if 
we  fail  to  see  the  Gewissheit  of  the  attribution.  It  is  true 
that  Vasari  was  not  sure  whether  Giorgione  or  Titian  was  the 
author,  but  tradition,  as  can  be  traced  by  guide  books,  certainly 
leads  us  to  consider  the  former  as  the  author.  The  condition 
of  the  picture  is  such  that  it  gives  one  no  help  in  solving  the 
problem,  but  so  far  as  the  drawing  of  details  goes  we  meet 
no  contradiction  of  the  traditional  authorship.  The  shape  of 
the  head  of  the  Christ  and  the  drawing  of  the  eyes  and  brow 
1 Die  Galerie  zu  Dresden,  p.  297,  n. 


GIORGIONE 


185 


are  met  with  in  the  certain  works.  In  believing  this  ruined 
picture  to  be  by  our  master,  I am  following  the  opinion  held 
by  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  and  in  more  recent  days  by 
Berenson. 

The  difficulties  that  are  met  in  trying  to  discover  a decisive 
proof  of  the  origin  of  the  Knight  of  Malta  are  similar  to 
those  which  confuse  the  argument  about  the  ‘Christ’  of 
San  Rocco.  The  picture  has  been  so  maltreated  that  there  is 
little  left  to  study  but  the  shadow  of  the  original.  A mag- 
nificent original  it  must  have  been,  one  of  those  rare  works, 
commoner  in  Venice  than  elsewhere,  that  truly  make  the 
corporal  substance  conform  to  the  nature  of  the  hidden  soul, 
so  that  one  thinks  not  so  much  of  the  person  shown  to  us  as  of 
his  manner  of  thought  and  life.  There  is  much  about  the 
portrait  that  makes  its  attribution  to  any  one  but  Giorgione 
next  to  impossible,  and  nothing,  I believe,  that  throws  any 
doubt  in  the  way  of  our  considering  him  the  author.  He  was 
capable  of  such  a portrait,  and  in  its  earlier  days  it  was  un- 
questionably worthy  of  him.  This  is,  of  course,  the  usual 
opinion,  though  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  felt  that  the  repaint- 
ing had  so  altered  the  work  as  to  destroy  its  character. 

The  Head  of  Christ  bearing  the  Cross,  formerly  in  Vi- 
cenza, and  now,  fortunately  for  our  country,  in  Boston,  is 
another  of  the  works  the  authorship  of  which  cannot  be  ab- 
solutely proved,  but  of  which  the  character  is  so  marked  that 
there  is  little  or  no  diversity  of  opinion  about  it.1  It  is  one 

1 The  inaccurate  copy  in  the  Rovigo  Gallery  is  a wretched  daub  that  is  not 
worth  preserving.  There  are  other  poor  replicas  of  the  picture ; one  owned  by  Count 
Lanckoronski  in  Vienna  is  considered  by  Venturi  to  be  the  original.  The  other 
picture  in  the  Rovigo  Gallery  (No.  11),  sometimes  spoken  of  in  the  same  breath 
with  Giorgione’s  name,  is  equally  worthless.  It  is  nothing  but  a wretched  copy  of 
the  head  of  the  Vienna  David. 


186 


STUDIES 


of  the  pictures  that  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  thought  worthy 
of  Giorgione,  and  which  since  their  day  Morelli  and  others 
have  not  hesitated  to  regard  as  his.  Still  strongly  tinged  with 
the  influence  of  Bellini,  it  contains  the  promise  of  a freer, 
broader  treatment  of  religious  subjects  than  even  Bellini  had 
attained,  and  shows  us  unquestionably  the  young  Giorgione. 
The  hand  and  eye  of  Bellini  guide  him  as  he  works,  but  his 
own  genius  cannot  be  utterly  suppressed,  and  he  adds  to  his 
master’s  style  something  that  marks  the  picture,  when  it 
leaves  his  easel,  as  the  true  expression  of  a great  genius  and  not 
as  that  of  a merely  facile  and  unoriginal  pupil  (Plate  LXVII). 

Closely  connected  with  the  Madonna  of  Castelfranco  is 
the  study  for  the  figure  of  San  Liberale  in  the  National 
Gallery.  It  is  true  that  such  studies  by  the  fifteenth-cen- 
tury Italian  masters  are  extremely  uncommon,  but  the  differ- 
ences between  this  study  and  the  large  picture  are  such  as  we 
can  hardly  imagine  being  introduced  by  a copyist,  and  the 
painting,  considered  solely  from  the  technical  point  of  view, 
is  so  masterly  that  we  are,  I believe,  justified  in  considering 
the  figure  as  the  product  of  Giorgione’s  brush. 

Of  the  six  pictures  (Pitti,  Concert,  and  Nymph  with 
Satyr;  Louvre,  Fete  Champetre,  and  Madonna  and 
Saints;  Hampton  Court,  Shepherd;  Madrid,  Madonna 
with  Sta.  Brigida)  which,  though  traditionally  ascribed  to 
Giorgione,  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  refused  to  consider  as 
his,  the  Madonna  and  Sta.  Brigida  and  the  Madonna  and 
Saints  in  the  Louvre  are  now  less  often  thought  of  in  connec- 
tion with  his  name.1 

1 The  picture  in  Madrid  is  by  Titian ; the  one  in  the  Louvre  is  said  by  Crowe  and 
Cavalcaselle  to  be  by  Pellegrino  da  San  Daniele,  while  Berenson  attributes  it  to 
Cariani. 


Plate 


GIORGIONE 


187 


Of  the  Madonna  and  Saints  in  the  Louvre  it  is  interesting 
to  note  that  even  a century  ago  there  were  those  who  judged 
the  work  at  its  true  value.  It  is  of  this  work,  I believe,  that 
J.  B.  P.  Lebrun  1 says : (p.  71)  “Attribue  au  Giorgion.  Un 
Concert  de  figures  vues  a mi-crops  et  de  grandeur  naturelle, 
tres-mauvais  ouvrage  dans  le  genre  de  cette  ecole,  d’environ 
4 pieds  et  demi  de  hauteur,  sur  6 de  largeur,  sur  toile.  Je 
tairai  ce  qu’en  dit  Lalande.  Vient  de  Milan,  bibliotheque 
Ambrosienne.” 

Concerning  the  four  other  pictures  there  is  considerable 
diversity  of  opinion.  The  Head  of  a Boy  at  Hampton  Court 
is  thought  by  Morelli  to  be  an  original  Giorgione,  but  as  the 
light  was  bad  when  he  saw  the  work,  he  is  not  sure.  Berenson, 
however,  does  not  doubt  the  genuineness  of  the  picture.  Con- 
sidering the  fact  that  the  head  is  a copy  of  the  Vienna  David, 
we  may  very  seriously  question  whether  it  is  by  Giorgione. 
One  can  scarcely  suppose  that  he  would  have  repeated  his 
pictures  and  made  the  head  of  his  David  answer  for  a Shep- 
herd. Morelli  was  right  in  recognising  the  Giorgionesque 
spirit  of  the  work,  but  it  is  only  a copy  of  the  head  of  the 
original  David,  with  certain  details  altered. 

The  Nymph  and  Satyr  2 in  the  Pitti,  which  used  to  be 
called  a Giorgione  and  which  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  thought 
to  be  by  some  imitator  of  him  and  of  Titian,  bears  now,  I 
believe,  the  name  of  Dosso  Dossi.  Morelli  considered  it  a 
youthful  work  of  Giorgione,  though  it  certainly  shows  few  signs 

1 Examen  | Historique  et  Critique  | Des  Tableaux  | Exposees  Provisoire- 
ment  | Venant  des  premier  et  second  envoies  de  Milan,  Cremone,  Parme,  Plai- 
sance,  Modene,  Cento  et  Bologne,  auquel  on  a joint  le  detail  de  tous  les  Monumens 
des  Arts  qui  sont  arrives  d’ltalie.  — An  VIe  de  la  Republique. 

2 A good  replica  is  in  the  Corsini  Gallery,  Florence. 


188 


STUDIES 


of  youth,  and  the  Giorgionesque  details  which  he  enumerates 
are  exactly  those  which  an  imitator  would  easily  acquire. 
The  idea  and  the  energetic  freedom  of  composition  are  more 
like  the  work  of  men  who  came  after  Giorgione,  and  the  col- 
ouring is  unlike  his.  We  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  he 
ever  painted  subjects  embodying  just  such  trivially  sensual 
and  commonplace  ideas,  and  as  there  is  no  marked  and  char- 
acteristic likeness  in  the  figures  to  any  of  his  known  works, 
it  is  safer  to  consider  it  the  product  of  a would-be  imitator, 
such  as  we  know  Dosso  Dossi  to  have  been. 

To  decide  the  question  of  the  Concert  in  the  Pitti  is  by 
no  means  easy.  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  felt  sure  it  could  not 
be  by  Giorgione,  or  else  that  “he  did  not  execute  what  we  are 
fond  of  attributing  to  him,”  for  it  seemed  to  them  more  ad- 
vanced and  to  surpass  his  true  works.  Morelli,  too,  did  not 
regard  Giorgione  as  the  author,  but  the  youthful  Titian,1  and 
to  this  Berenson  agrees.  The  interrelation  of  the  complex 
sensations  expressed  in  the  deeply  moved  but  quiet  faces  is 
certainly  more  like  the  work  of  the  painter  of  the  Two  Loves 
than  that  of  him  of  the  Three  Philosophers.  The  likeness, 
too,  of  the  middle  figure  in  the  Concert  to  the  Man  with  the 
Glove  in  the  Louvre  — a likeness  found  not  only  in  the  ex- 
pression of  the  two  heads,  but  also  in  the  wonderfully  wrought 
modelling  of  them  — is  most  noticeable.  How  the  same  artist 
can  have  accomplished  so  dull  and  stupid  a face  as  the  one  to 
the  left  is  a question  only  to  be  answered  by  the  vandals  who 
have  repainted  and  thereby  ruined  this  very  splendid  work. 
It  certainly  does  remind  one  of  Giorgione,  but  so  does  the 
Two  Loves.  Titian  we  know  well  was,  in  his  early  days, 

1 Die  Galerie  zu  Dresden,  p.  276. 


GIORGIONE 


189 


much  influenced  by  his  fellow-worker,  but  we  know  also  that 
he  became  the  more  accomplished  artist  of  the  two  and  at- 
tained a power  of  technique  and  of  representation  of  facial 
expression  beyond  that  of  his  too  early  dead  contemporary. 
As  just  such  an  artist  is  shown  us  in  the  Concert,  one  can  but 
agree  with  Morelli  in  regarding  it  as  the  work  of  Titian  — as 
one  of  his  finest,  for  he  rarely  reached  such  mastery  of  subtle 
expression  as  shown  in  the  central  figure. 

I come  now  to  the  discussion  of  a picture  so  well  known 
that  I feel  scarcely  justified  in  doing  more  than  simply  express 
my  opinion  of  it,  but  the  picture  is  so  important  that  I must 
be  excused  for  arguing  about  it  in  close  detail.  It  is  the 
Fete  Champetre  in  the  Louvre ; a picture  which  almost 
every  one  unhesitatingly  attributes  to  Giorgione,  but  which  I 
cannot  believe  to  be  by  him  and  think  can  have  been  painted 
only  some  years  after  his  death.  As  in  regard  to  other  true  or 
false  Giorgiones,  the  opinion  held  by  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle 
is  worthy  of  more  attention  than  later  writers  have  seen  fit 
to  give  it.  What  the  former  say  about  the  picture  is  this : 
“We  cannot  say  that  Giorgione  would  not  have  painted  such 
a scene ; but,  as  far  as  we  know,  he  would  have  treated  it  with 
more  nobleness  of  sentiment,  without  defects  of  form  or  neg- 
lect of  nature’s  finenesses,  without  the  pasty  surface  and 
sombre  glow  of  tone  which  here  is  all  pervading : he  would 
have  given  more  brightness  and  variety  to  his  landscape.” 
They  were  surely  not  far  wrong  when  they  suggested  some 
imitator  of  Sebastiano  del  Piombo  as  the  painter.  There  is 
certainly  a Giorgionesque  quality  in  the  scene,  but  that  only 
means  that  the  painter  puts  before  our  eyes  the  varied  and 
mingled  charms  of  green  fields  enlivened  with  the  faint  mur- 


190 


STUDIES 


mur  of  shepherds  tending  their  distant  flocks,  of  woods  and 
rivers,  and  of  strong  men  and  lovely  women  making  music 
beside  a fountain  overhung  by  trees.  It  used  to  be  the  fash- 
ion 1 to  call  every  portrait  of  a dark-eyed  man  with  long  abun- 
dant locks  by  Giorgione’s  name,  and  those  who  believed  in 
such  things  also  thought  that  he  was  the  only  painter  of  Fetes 
Champetres. 

We  may  freely  concede  that  Giorgione  did  do  much  to  intro- 
duce and  skilfully  display  a class  of  subjects  that  had  been 
little  cared  for  until  this  day.  But  he  was  not  the  only  artist 
to  feel  the  charm  of  such  scenes.  Sedate  Bellini  himself 
showed  in  such  a picture  as  the  Bacchanal  in  Alnwick  Castle 
that  he  too  felt  them,  and  rapidly  they  became  more  and  more 
common.  But  in  the  earlier  years  of  this  development  such 
scenes  were  generally  given  on  a small  scale  or  else  were  in- 
tended to  illustrate,  even  though  in  many  cases  the  clue  is 
lost  to  us,  some  more  distinct  and  concisely  expressable  idea 
than  mere  Arcadian  life  among  the  trees.  It  is  not  alone  the 
emptiness  of  thought  that  forces  us  to  decide  upon  some  later 
author  than  Giorgione  for  this  work.  Forms  of  details,  man- 
ner of  design  and  method  of  painting,  all  are  different  from 
his  certain  works. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  the  attention  is  that  the  soft, 
dull  drawing  of  the  figures,  and  the  clumsy,  baggy  modelling 
of  the  women,  is  unlike  anything  found  in  any  of  the  un- 
doubted Giorgiones.2  Compare  the  delicate  shape  and  clear 
drawing  of  the  figures  in  the  Uffizi  panels,  or  the  Venus 
or  the  Gypsy,  with  these  heavy,  ill-proportioned,  clumsily 

1 And  still  is  in  some  galleries,  as  Hampton  Court. 

2 The  picture  has  been  much  restored,  but  the  faults  pointed  out  here  are  not  due 
to  the  restorer. 


GIORGIONE 


191 


posed  figures,  and  then  say  if  you  think  Giorgione  could  have 
sunk  so  low.  Or,  if  you  will  seek  proof  in  fingers  and  toes, 
hands  and  feet,  where  in  Giorgione’s  work  are  such  a shapeless 
leathery  ear,  so  thick-lipped  a mouth,  so  short-toed  and  thick 
a foot,  or  such  spidery  hands  to  be  found  ? Nowhere.  Look 
at  the  landscape.  The  trees  are  much  more  massy  and  less 
flat  and  feathery,  their  surface  is  more  broken  by  flickering 
spots  of  light,  they  show,  in  fact,  a more  advanced  stage  in 
the  rendering  of  the  appearance  of  Nature,  than  is  shown  in 
Giorgione’s  work. 

It  is  instructive  to  notice,  too,  the  way  that  the  grass  is 
painted  in  the  foreground,  the  thick  mat  of  it,  and  the  long 
bright  blades  and  tufts.  Giorgione  never  reached  such  real- 
ism as  that,  as  you  can  see  by  the  primitive  way  in  which 
he  seeks  to  render  the  effect  in  the  picture  of  the  Gypsy. 
Consider  further  the  treatment  of  the  sunlight  as  it  floats 
over  the  hillsides  and  glows  among  the  trees.  In  the  Castel- 
franco  Madonna,  in  the  Three  Philosophers,  in  the  Gypsy, 
in  the  Beaumont  Shepherd’s  Offering,  large,  smooth,  un- 
broken surfaces  of  light  and  shade,  seeming  almost  more 
like  some  woven  stuff  than  rough  earth,  are  contrasted,  but 
here  all  is  broken,  enriched  perhaps,  but  less  simple  and  less 
telling. 

In  and  out  by  the  river  and  over  the  hill.  Nature’s  wrinkles 
are  embossed  by  the  soft  light,  and  nowhere  is  there  restful 
certainty  of  sun  or  shadow.  In  among  the  trees  behind  the 
shepherd,  the  hot,  misty  light  that  one  sees  only  in  the  forest 
is  radiant  with  summer  colour  and  seems  to  murmur  with  the 
voice  of  the  woods.  Such  effects  were  unknown  to  Giorgione, 
but  they  were  not  unknown  to  Titian,  for  he  was  the  first  great 


192 


STUDIES 


landscapist,  and  in  the  Vierge  au  Lapin  and  the  other  Vir- 
gin seated  under  the  trees,  which  used  to  hang  opposite  in 
the  Long  Gallery  of  the  Louvre,  we  see  exactly  these  technical 
peculiarities  and  these  effects  of  nature  done  with  the  sure 
stroke  of  the  master.  Not  only  has  the  author  of  the  Fete 
Champetre  followed  Titian  in  these  ways,  but  his  thick  pasty 
colour  is  taken  from  him.  Not  a stroke  of  this  picture  dis- 
plays original  talent,  there  is  not  one  that  resembles  Giorgione, 
not  one  that  does  not  betray  the  skilful  imitator  of  ideas  and 
manner  of  other  well-known  men,  chiefly  of  Titian. 

But  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  something  remains  to  be 
pointed  out  that  even  if  all  the  rest  could  be  accommodated 
to  what  we  know  of  Giorgione,  would  render  it  incredible  that 
he  should  be  the  author.  Morelli  and  others  have  noted  the 
curious  similarity  between  the  two  musicians  and  certain 
figures  in  one  of  Titian’s  frescoes  in  Padua.  One  cannot  say 
that  Titian  would  not  have  taken  hints  from  Giorgione,  but 
he  was  scarcely  the  man  to  need  any  one’s  suggestions,  espe- 
cially if  it  was  in  the  shape  of  such  commonplace  figures  as 
these.  There  are  those,  however,  who  think  he  did.  But 
now  let  me  add  that  the  two  women  bear  the  most  striking 
and  unquestionable  likeness  to  the  two  women  in  Tintoretto’s 
( ?)  Rescue  in  Dresden,  though  they  have  lost  the  purity  of 
Tintoretto’s  figures.  Surely  no  one  will  maintain  that  this 
at  best  only  fanciful  and  pretty,  but  in  no  way  striking,  Fete 
Champetre  was  the  source  of  inspiration  to  the  two  greatest 
Venetian  painters  in  their  days  of  prime  and  finished  power  ? 
It  is  impossible.  The  idea  must  be  given  up,  and  though  there 
is  no  denying  the  charm  of  the  musicians  under  the  trees,  let 
us  cast  the  scales  from  our  eyes  and  recognise  its  complete 


GIORGIONE 


193 


dissimilarity  to  the  work  of  the  Master  of  Castelfranco,  and 
that  it  is  merely  a perfectly  charming  'pasticcio. 

I have  now  discussed  the  pictures  spoken  of  by  Crowe  and 
Cavalcaselle,  and  there  are  left  for  us  to  consider  those  to 
which  Morelli  first  drew  marked  attention.  Such  are  the 
Madonna  with  Sts.  Antony  and  Roch  in  Madrid,  Daphne  and 
Apollo  in  Venice,  Three  Ages  of  Man  in  the  Uffizi,  Birth  of 
Paris  and  Portrait  of  a Man  in  Buda-Pesth,  Portrait  of  a 
Woman  in  the  Borghese  Gallery,  Portrait  of  a Youth  in  Ber- 
lin, Allegory  in  Dresden,  and  Judith  in  St.  Petersburg.  I 
have  already  spoken  of  the  Venus,  Nymph  and  Satyr,  and 
the  Shepherd  at  Hampton  Court. 

The  Madonna  in  Madrid  has  generally  been  called  by  the 
name  of  Pordenone,  while  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  thought  it 
by  Francesco  Vecelli.  It  is  certainly  not  a Giorgione,  but  a 
mere  pasticcio  like  the  Fete  Champetre.  We  cannot  be 
blamed  for  asking  some  more  decisive  evidence  of  its  Gior- 
gionesque  origin  than  Morelli  gives  before  we  agree  with  him. 
He  satisfies  himself  with  saying1  “Doch  ich  muss  gestehen, 
dass  es  fiir  mich  keine  geringe  Freude  war,  bei  meinem  Be- 
suche  von  Madrid  dieses  Wunderwerk  venetianischer  Maler- 
kunst  sogleich  als  Schopfung  unsers  Giorgione  erkannt  zu 
haben.” 

This,  on  the  surface,  is  too  rapid  and  absolute  a statement 
to  be  admitted  without  question,  and  as  there  are  excellent 
reasons  why  Giorgione  could  not  have  painted  the  work,  we 
may  confidently  strike  it  from  the  list.  The  composition  in 
the  main  is  borrowed  from  the  picture  at  Castelfranco.  Gior- 
gione was  hardly  the  man  to  repeat  his  own  works.  The 

1 Die  Galerie  zu  Dresden , p.  282.  A copy  of  the  picture  is  at  Hampton  Court. 


194 


STUDIES 


heavy,  thick,  coarse  painting  is  absolutely  different  from  Gior- 
gione’s work.  The  clumsy  draperies  show  none  of  his  fine 
feeling.  The  thick-set  figures  of  the  Saints  do  not  exhibit  his 
elegance  and  refinement  of  form.  The  infant,  more  like  a 
Hercules  than  a Christ,  is  quite  unlike  his  poetic  and  dreamy- 
looking  children.  The  manner  in  which  the  foot  of  St.  Roch 
is  raised  is  awkward  and  unmeaning,  while  the  fat  hands,  thick 
ears  and  coarse  features  bear  no  resemblance  to  Giorgione’s 
work.  The  work  is  not  only  crude,  it  is  unintelligent.  The 
wall  behind  the  Virgin  cannot  be  explained,  the  chiaroscuro 
is  harsh,  the  attitude  of  St.  Anthony,  turning  as  he  does  from 
the  main  group,  is  senseless,  and  the  flowers  are  scattered 
about  in  a childish  way.  It  is  based  on  Giorgione’s  work,  but 
must  have  been  painted  by  an  inferior  artist  many  years  after 
his  death. 

The  Daphne  and  Apollo  in  Venice  has  been  injured  by  re- 
painting and  by  having  lost  the  left-hand  end,  but  one  can 
easily  see  that  it  will  take  much  more  than  a mere  assertion 
by  Morelli 1 to  convince  anyone  that  Giorgione  painted  it. 
Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  think  the  painter  was  probably  Andrea 
Schiavoni.  If  it  was  not  Schiavoni,  it  was  someone  of  an  almost 
precisely  similar  nature  and  talent.  The  generally  loose  draw- 
ing and  painting  remind  one  of  him.  The  bad  drawing  and  per- 
spective, the  proportions  and  shapes  of  the  figures  (note  the 
chunky  Apollo  drawing  his  bow  and  the  head  of  the  woman  in 
the  middle  distance),  the  clawlike  hands  and  clumsy  feet,  and 
the  stupid  confusion  of  scale  in  which  the  figures  are  drawn, 
all  show  without  any  possibility  of  question,  that  neither  Gior- 
gione nor  any  other  artist  of  the  first  rank  painted  the  picture. 

1 Die  Galerie  zu  Dresden,  p.  282. 


Plate  LXVXI 


GIORGIONE 


195 


There  are  in  Padua  two  other  cassone  pictures  representing 
the  fables  of  Myrrha  and  of  Erysichthon  as  told  by  Ovid  in  the 
“ Metamorphoses”  (VIII  fab.  7 and  X fab.  9).  They  are  Gior- 
gionesque  in  feeling,  but  are  plainly  derived  from  the  wood- 
cuts  in  the  1497  Venice  edition  of  Ovid  (Cf.  Justi,  Giorgione 
p.  191  f).  It  is  possible  that  these  are  two  of  the  pictures  re- 
ferred to  by  Ridolfi  (see  above,  No.  19). 

Of  the  Three  Ages  it  is  perhaps  sufficient  to  say  that 
Morelli’s  attribution  has  not  found  general  acceptance. 

The  Allegory  in  Dresden  in  times  gone  by  has  been  and 
by  some  still  is  considered,  as  Morelli  thought,  a copy  of  a 
work  by  Giorgione.  There  is,  I believe,  no  real  evidence  in 
favour  of  this  theory,  which  seems  to  me  to  depend  solely  on 
personal  feeling. 

The  Judith  in  St.  Petersburg,  where  it  goes  by  the  name  of 
Moretto,  presents  a more  difficult  problem.  Morelli,  though 
he  seems  to  have  had  no  doubt  that  Giorgione  was  the  painter, 
was  not  sure  whether  the  picture  was  a copy  or  not.  That  it 
is  a copy  is  Berenson’s  opinion.1  The  lack  of  modelling  and 
the  bad  drawing  of  parts  are  the  reasons  why  Berenson  and 
others  think  it  a copy,  and  Berenson  finds  a trace  of  copyist’s 
work  in  the  fact  that  the  head  is  better  done  than  the  rest  of 
the  figure.  Personally,  I do  not  recognise  this  superiority  of 
the  head,  and  considering  the  numerous  faults  which  he  points 
out,  I do  not  understand  his  last  sentence:  “En  somme,  la 
Judith  de  l’Ermitage  me  parait  une  bonne  copie,  mais  apres 

1 Gazette  des  Beaux  Arts,  Oct.  1897,  p.  270.  Berenson  in  this  suggestive  article 
has  mixed  ecstatic  and  girlish  talk  inextricably  with  sound  argument.  In  his 
criticism  of  the  Judith  he  says  : “II  faudrait  le  talent  d’un  poete  de  premier  ordre 
pour  exprimer  dans  la  plenitude  tout  ce  qu’on  devine  dans  la  Judith  de  Saint  Peters- 
bourg.”  True,  but  though  such  sentiments  fill  the  page,  they  do  not  have  the  same 
effect  on  our  mind  as  the  picture. 


196 


STUDIES 


tout,  ce  n’est  qu’une  copie.”  If  one  believes  these  numerous 
faults  to  be  due  to  the  copyist,  I should  say  that  they  proved  it 
to  be  a pretty  poor  copy.  Study  of  the  work  itself  will,  how- 
ever, convince  anyone  that  it  is  not  a copy,  but  the  original 
picture,  and  the  artist  can  be  no  other  than  Giorgione.  The 
panel  on  which  it  was  painted  was  originally  broader  on  the 
right  side.1  The  uncertain  drawing  is  what  one  would  expect 
to  find  in  an  early  work.  The  drapery  is  not  so  simple  as 
usual  in  its  folds,  and  at  first  sight  the  way  it  is  drawn  aside, 
leaving  one  leg  bare,  seems  affected.  But  when  one  thinks 
of  the  bleeding  head  on  the  ground,  this  action  is  seen  to  be 
natural  and  the  contrast  of  nude  and  draped  parts  is  of  the 
same  unexpected  and  original  character  as  one  sees  in  the 
woman  of  the  Giovanelli  picture. 

The  fragment  in  Buda-Pesth  which  Morelli  thought  was  part 
of  the  picture  representing  the  Birth  of  Paris  is,  as  Berenson 
points  out  in  the  article  already  referred  to,  only  a copy,  and  a 
poor  one  at  that.  But  even  poor  copies  of  lost  Giorgiones 
are  works  to  be  carefully  cherished. 

Morelli  also  thought  he  knew  of  three  portraits  by  Gior- 
gione. Of  these  three  (the  Woman  in  the  Borghese,  the 
Man  in  the  Buda-Pesth  Gallery,  and  the  Youth  in  Berlin), 
the  first  two  may  be  seriously  questioned.  To  my  eye  the 
Borghese  portrait  is  by  no  means  so  strikingly  Giorgionesque 
as  Morelli  considered  it.  While  it  is  true  that  a brow  here 
and  a mouth  there  can  be  found  scattered  among  the  figures 
in  the  true  Giorgiones  that  resemble  the  features  of  this  woman, 
the  type  of  face  shows  little  likeness  to  Giorgione’s  work. 
Nor  does  the  muddy  colour  indicate  the  palette  of  an  artist 

1 See  the  engraving  published  by  Justi  in  his  Giorgione. 


GIORGIONE 


197 


of  more  than  mediocre  ability.  Who  will  look  at  Giorgione’s 
masterpieces  and  then  say  he  thinks  the  same  artist  produced 
two  such  shapeless  hands  holding  such  a formless  swab  of 
cloth  ? Have  we  any  reason  to  think  Giorgione  had  so  poor 
an  understanding  of  perspective  as  to  be  unable  to  draw  cor- 
rectly the  line  of  the  parting  of  the  hair  ? Such  sloping 
shoulders  were  never  natural  and  the  fashion  of  drawing  them 
so  is  not  characteristic  of  Giorgione’s  work.  Could  not 
Giorgione  paint  better  drapery,  or  would  he  ever  have  been 
satisfied  with  such  a shoelace-like  ribbon  round  the  waist  ? 
Finally,  were  such  gauze  caps  known  in  Giorgione’s  day?  It  is 
the  purest  fancy  that  discovers  a shadow  of  greatness  in  this 
dull  work.  Drawing,  colour,  design,  all  proclaim  it  the  prod- 
uct of  a commonplace  artist.  The  work  is  unlike  Giorgione’s 
in  every  particular  except  the  shape  of  the  brow. 

Morelli’s  judgment  about  the  portrait  in  Buda-Pesth  is  a 
perfectly  sound  one.  It  occurs  only  in  the  English  transla- 
tion and  not  in  the  original  German.1  “The  picture,”  he  says, 
“has  suffered  much,  and  the  master  is  not  to  be  recognised 
in  the  technical  qualities  of  the  painting,  but  the  whole  feeling 
1 . . and  the  conception  seem  to  point  to  Giorgione.  The  im- 
pression which  it  made  upon  me  ten  years  ago  was  that  of  a 
thoroughly  Giorgionesque  work,  but  one  executed  by  a later 
hand  rather  than  by  the  master  himself.  Competent  critics  who 
have  examined  the  picture  in  the  meantime  insist,  however,  that 
it  is  a true  original  by  Giorgione.  I must  leave  the  final  deci- 
sion of  the  point  to  others.”  Unfortunately  it  is  next  to  impos- 
sible to  arrive  at  final  decisions  in  such  matters.  For  one,  I 

1 Italian  Painters:  Critical  Studies  of  their  Works.  By  Giovanni  Morelli.  The 
Galleries  of  Munich  and  Dresden.  Translated  by  C.  J.  Ffoulkes  (London,  1893), 

p.  218. 


198 


STUDIES 


believe  that  Morelli’s  idea,  that  the  work  was  executed  by  a 
follower  of  Giorgione,  is  borne  out  by  its  main  character- 
istics, particularly  by  the  self-conscious  pose  of  the  head,  and 
by  the  gesture  of  the  hand  — both  much  like  what  is  found 
in  portraits  by  the  men  of  the  generation  after  Giorgione. 

Then,  too,  the  cold  ashen  colour  is  very  unlike  Giorgione’s 
palette,  but  I would  not  lay  great  weight  on  this  fact  as  the 
picture  has  been  much  repainted.  The  picture  is  of  further 
interest  because  it  shows  the  fallacy  of  one  of  Morelli’s  most 
firm  statements.  In  the  Introduction  1 to  his  chapters  on  the 
Borghese  Gallery  he  says : “ Ich  erlaube  mir  bei  dieser  Gele- 
genheit  sogar  zu  bemerken,  dass  die  den  grossen  Meistern 
eigenthiimliche  Grundform  der  Hand  und  des  Ohres  nicht  nur 
auf  ihren  Bildern,  sondern  selbst  auf  den  von  ihnen  nach  dem 
Leben  gemalten  Portrats  sich  vorfindet.”  With  these  words 
in  one’s  mind  one  looks  at  the  Buda-Pesth  portrait  and  finds 
neither  hand,  ear,  eye,  nose  or  mouth  exhibiting  the  Grund- 
jorm shown  in  the  unquestioned  pictures.  Morelli  was  car- 
ried away  by  his  theories  in  this  point,  for  while  every  one  will 
readily  admit  that  many  cases,  especially  among  the  works  of 
the  primitive  and  early  masters,  can  be  found  to  fit  his  rule, 
yet  the  numberless  exceptions  to  this  rule,  particularly  among 
the  fully  developed  masters,  make  it  quite  plain  that,  at  best, 
its  application  requires  to  be  strictly  limited.2 

The  Portrait  of  a Youth  at  Berlin  is  the  last  of  the  Morel- 

1 Die  Galerien  Borghese  und  Doria-Pamfili  in  Rom  (Leipzig,  1890),  p.  99,  n.  1. 

2 Not  only  did  Morelli  weaken  his  writings  by  exaggeration  — which,  however, 
was  quite  natural  — but  in  the  less  excusable  way  of  giving  illustrations  that  are 
misleading.  The  woodcuts  which  serve  to  show  the  Grundform  of  hands  and  ears 
are  only  partially  exact,  and  in  one  case,  the  Bonifazio  ear,  a positive  caricature. 
The  process  cuts  of  the  paintings  are  too  miserable  to  consider.  This  is  unfor- 
tunately as  true  of  the  translations  as  of  the  original  editions. 


GIORGIONE 


199 


lian  Giorgiones  to  be  studied.  As  was  too  often  the  case, 
Morelli  speaks  off-hand  of  this  work  as  “ein  glanzendes  Por- 
trat  des  Giorgione,”  as  though  it  was  so  manifestly  by  him 
that  he  was  absolved  from  the  labour  of  adducing  proof ; but 
the  matter  is  not  so  simple.  It  is  surely  enough  Giorgionesque, 
but  do  the  details  bear  out  the  general  impression  so  strongly 
as  to  make  the  attribution  beyond  all  reasonable  doubt  ? 
Not  one  of  the  master’s  certain  works  shows  a head  like  this. 
It  is  sharper  and  harder  than  anything  of  his  except  the  Uffizi 
panels,  but  between  these,  sharp  and  hard  as  they  seem  to 
have  been,  and  the  Berlin  portrait,  there  is  an  important  and 
essential  difference.  The  figures  on  the  panels  are  not  only 
hard,  they  are  stiff ; that  is,  they  show  one  of  the  chief 
characteristics  of  youthful  work.1  If  now  the  portrait  be  by 
Giorgione,  it  is  self-evidently  an  early  work.  That  is,  there 
are  among  his  undoubted  works  some  that  show  vastly  greater 
ease  than  this.  But  this  portrait  does  not  show  any  stiffness. 

The  attitude  is  easy,  and  the  painting,  particularly  of  the 
drapery,  is  distinctly  free,  one  might  even  say  sketchy.  The 
work  shows,  perhaps,  not  so  much  the  characteristics  of  a 
young  artist  of  great  power  as  those  of  one  who  has  attained 
some  facility  but  not  the  complete  and  all-round  ease  of  the 
greatest  masters.  Then  what  do  the  letters  V.  V.  mean, 
painted  on  the  shelf  behind  which  the  figure  stands  ? Is  it 
not  possible  they  are  the  initial  letters  of  the  artist’s  name? 

1 Nothing  shows  better  the  distinction  between  the  work  of  the  Renaissance  and 
that  of  to-day  than  the  fact  that  the  careful  training  to  which  the  earlier  artists 
were  accustomed  led  them  to  produce  in  their  youthful  and  undeveloped  period 
finished  works  and  sketches  that  are  stiff,  whereas  nowadays  the  majority  of  the 
works  of  young  artists  show  not  so  much  stiffness  as  laxity.  The  one  developed 
from  hardness  to  easy  restraint,  the  other  advances  from  looseness  to  a mastery 
generally  much  less  even. 


200 


STUDIES 


Can  they  stand  for  an  as  yet  unknown  imitator,  another  Vin- 
centius  Venezianus?  As  Morelli  said  of  the  Portrait  in  Buda- 
Pesth,  “I  must  leave  the  final  decision  of  the  point  to  others” 
— others  better  qualified  than  myself.  Whoever  the  artist, 
the  picture  is  a splendid  one,  and  may  well  be  regarded  as 
showing  the  Giorgione  point  of  view  in  portraiture,  which, 
however,  is  a very  different  matter  from  being  a work  by  him. 

I have  already  had  occasion  to  refer  to  an  article  by 
Berenson  in  the  Gazette  des  Beaux-Arts  in  which  he  speaks  of 
pictures  he  considers  as  copies  of  lost  Giorgiones.  These  are : 

The  David  in  Vienna. 

The  Judith  in  St.  Petersburg. 

The  Birth  of  Paris  in  Buda-Pesth. 

Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  a cassone  at  Bergamo. 

Portrait  of  a Man,  formerly  in  the  Doetsch  collection. 

Portrait  of  a Lady,  belonging  to  Signor  Crespi  at  Milan. 

Of  the  first  three  I have  already  spoken.  To  maintain  his 
thesis  about  the  Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  Berenson  mentions 
only  vague  sentiments  such  as  “Qui  done,  autre  que  lui,  a su 
traduire,  comme  nous  le  voyons  ici,  un  mythe  grec  dans 
resprit  de  la  Renaissance?”  We  might  reply  that  Bellini, 
Titian,  Tintoret,  to  mention  merely  Venetians,  all  showed  a 
rather  marked  ability  to  do  this  very  thing,  so  it  was  not  a 
personal  peculiarity  of  Giorgione.  “Qui  done,  autre  que  lui, 
avait  le  don  de  fondre  le  paysage  et  les  figures  dans  une  aussi 
charmante  harmonie?”  Again  the  ability  to  do  this  was 
possessed  by  many  artists,  and  so  vague  a phrase  as  aussi 
charmante  proves  nothing  whatever.  Continuing,  he  finds 
many  details  which  betray  very  certainly  the  work  of  Cariani 
(an  undoubted  imitator  of  Giorgione),  and  decides  that  the 
work  is  a copy  by  Cariani  of  a lost  Giorgione.  But  when 


GIORGIONE 


201 


much  is  admittedly  unlike  Giorgione  and  everything  suits 
Cariani,  why  not  consider  Cariani  the  artist  ? Apparently 
because  “si  nous  etions  nous-meme  des  artistes  tres  doues, 
nous  pourrions  remplacer  chaque  detail  carianesque  par  un 
detail  giorgionesque , emprunte  aux  oeuvres  du  mattre  les  plus 
voisines.”  This  has  no  force.  We  might  as  well  “remplacer 
chaque  detail  carianesque  par  un  detail  michelangelesque,” 
and  what  would  be  shown  thereby  ? Nothing. 

The  reasons  given  for  believing  the  Portrait  from  the  Doetsch 
collection  1 to  be  a copy  of  a Giorgione  are  quite  as  vague  and 
undefinable  as  those  for  the  Orpheus  and  Eurydice.  The 
consideration  of  details  is  no  more  convincing  than  the  senti- 
ments and  fanciful  writing  that  precede.  “Si  l’auteur  de 
l’original  en  question  n’etait  pas  Giorgione,  ce  devrait  etre 
quelque  imitateur  servile  du  mattre,  comme  Licinio  ou  Bec- 
caruzzi.  Mais  ces  peintres  de  second  ordre  ne  pouvaient 
qu’imiter  et  non  creer,  et  le  portrait  de  la  collection  Doetsch 
est  bien  une  creation,”  and  yet  he  has  just  said  that  this  por- 
trait “est  le  meme  type  que  celui  du  jeune  homme  de  Buda- 
Pesth,”  — the  picture  mentioned  by  Morelli.  Berenson’s 
definition  of  ‘creation’  must  differ  from  that  ordinarily  em- 
ployed ; and  Licinio  at  his  best  was  not  so  uncreative  as  Beren- 
son  would  have  us  believe.  He  gives  one,  however,  further 
surprises  in  asserting  that  this  portrait  agrees  in  all  details 
with  the  one  in  Berlin  ! Not  only  the  same  head  and  brow, 
but  “le  meme  sentiment  dans  la  bouche  !” 

Even  were  this  all  so,  and  I cannot  see  that  it  is  in  the  least, 
what  would  be  proved  ? To  compare  one  doubtful  work  to 
another  of  a similar  nature  does  not,  as  I have  said  above, 

1 Reproduced  in  the  Burlington  Magazine,  1895-6,  p.  338. 


202 


STUDIES 


prove  the  authorship  of  either.  Furthermore,  though  one 
can  find  strong  likenesses  to  the  Berlin  head  in  the  true 
works  by  Giorgione,  in  these  same  works  one  cannot  find  any 
likeness  whatever  to  the  Doetsch  portrait.  To  compare 
this  overemphasised  portrait,  this  person  who  seems  half 
brigand  and  half  Shylock,  to  the  sad,  poetical-looking  man 
at  Buda-Pesth,  or  to  the  clean,  vigorous,  manly  youth  in 
Berlin,  is  going  pretty  far,  and  the  limit  is  plainly  over- 
stepped in  the  endeavour  to  attach  to  the  picture  a value  it 
does  not  possess  by  giving  to  it  the  name  of  one  of  the 
greatest  artists. 

For  the  painter  of  the  Crespi  Portrait  of  a Lady  we  shall 
do  better  to  look  in  the  direction  of  Titian  than  Giorgione. 
The  owner,  Signor  Crespi,  believes,  according  to  Berenson, 
that  Titian  was  the  author,  and  certainly  the  likeness  which 
the  figure  bears  to  other  women  by  Titian,  and  the  initials 
T.  V.  make  it  difficult  to  admit  any  other  origin.  Neither 
ecstasies  nor  comparisons  serve  to  show  any  likeness  to  Gior- 
gione’s work. 

Of  all  the  portraits  attributed  to  Giorgione  the  finest  by  far 
is  the  one  owned  by  the  Hon.  Edward  Wood  of  Temple  New- 
sam.  Attention  was  first  drawn  to  this  by  Cook  and  his  at- 
tribution has  been  accepted  by  every  one.  It  is  a master- 
piece of  the  greatest  beauty  (Plate  LXVIII). 

We  have  now  reviewed  the  most  important  criticisms  that 
have  been  passed  on  Giorgione’s  work ; and  though  it  is  only  too 
evident  that  as  yet  there  is  no  really  sound  common  standard 
by  which  to  govern  our  judgments,  we  can  come  very  near  to 
forming  one  if  we  accept  the  more  sober  part  of  the  work  of 
these  criticisms  and  disregard  their  more  extravagant  and 


Plate  LXVIII 


GIORGIONE 


203 


hypothetical  attributions.1  The  following  list,  I venture  to 
think,  embraces  works  differing  much  less  arpong  themselves  in 
regard  to  style  than  the  lists  of  the  critics  that  I have  discussed. 

1.  Vienna  — David  (copy). 

2.  Venice  — Fondaco  dei  Tedeschi  (fragment  still  visible,  but  com- 

pare Zanetti’s  engraving) . 

3.  Venice  — Chiesa  di  San  Rocco,  Christ  carrying  the  Cross  (much 

damaged). 

4.  Venice,  Giovanelli  Palace,  Soldier  and  Woman,  known  as  The 

Tempest. 

5.  Castelfranco,  Madonna  Enthroned. 

6.  Dresden,  Venus. 

7.  Kingston  Lacy,  Judgment  of  Solomon  (unfinished). 

8.  Vienna,  Three  Philosophers. 

9.  Buda-Pesth,  Birth  of  Paris  (fragment  of  a copy). 

10.  Florence,  Uffizi,  Judgment  of  Solomon. 

11.  Florence,  Uffizi,  Fire-test  of  Moses. 

12.  Florence,  Uffizi,  Knight  of  Malta. 

13.  Boston,  Mass.,  Mrs.  Gardner’s  Collection  (formerly  Vicenza), 

Head  of  Christ. 

14.  London,  National  Gallery,  Study  for  the  San  Liberale  of  the 

Castelfranco  picture. 

15.  London,  National  Gallery,  Epiphany. 

16.  London,  Mr.  Benson,  Holy  Family. 

17.  London,  Lord  Allandale,  Shepherd’s  Offering. 

18.  Temple  Newsam,  Hon.  Mr.  Wood.  Portrait  of  a Man. 

19.  St.  Petersburg,  Judith. 

20.  Berlin,  Portrait  of  a Youth  ( ?). 

Excluding  the  last  one  as  being  open  to  doubt,  nine- 
teen pictures,  two  probably  copies,  remain  as  our  heritage 
of  this  most  noble  painter’s  work.  With  these  nineteen  in 
our  mind,  it  becomes  more  evident  than  ever  why  such 
works  as  the  Louvre  Concert,  the  Borghese  Lady,  or  the 

1 The  reason  I have  not  discussed  in  detail  the  list  given  by  Cook  in  his 
book  on  Giorgione  (London,  1904)  and  in  various  articles  in  the  Burlington 
Magazine  (1905-1906)  and  Gazette  des  Beaux  Arts  (1902)  is  due  to  no  careless 
disregard  of  his  work  but  to  the  fact  that  his  point  of  view  in  regard  to  Giorgione 
and  the  principles  of  criticism  are  so  utterly  dissimilar  to  mine  that  no  good  would 
be  gained  from  pointing  out  in  detail  my  disagreement  with  his  judgment. 


204 


STUDIES 


Doetsch  Man  are  not  to  be  thought  of  in  connection  with 
Giorgione’s  name,. 

There  yet  remains  something  more  to  be  said  of  Giorgione. 
I think  that  there  are  still  some  pictures  to  be  added  to  this 
list.  The  first  to  which  I desire  to  call  attention  is  the  so- 
called  Gypsy  Madonna  in  Vienna.  This  picture  is  spoken 
of  by  every  one  as  a Titian,  but  the  longer  I study  it  the  more 
strong  becomes  my  conviction  that  Giorgione  was  the  artist ; 
that  it  is  one  of  his  early  works ; that  it  is  one  of  the  “many 
pictures  of  the  Virgin”  of  which  Vasari  speaks.  The  Gior- 
gione spirit  seems  to  me  to  underlie  the  whole  feeling  just  as 
the  Giorgione  technique  underlies  the  completed  performance, 
that  is,  wherever  the  repainting  allows  it  to  be  seen  (Plate 
LXIX). 

Evidently,  from  the  lack  of  decision  of  the  drawing,  the  coarse 
modelling  of  the  drapery,  and  the  heavy,  undetailed  landscape 
the  picture  is  an  early  work  of  the  master,  be  he  Titian 
or  Giorgione.  To  my  mind  the  likeness  between  this  and 
unquestioned  early  Titians  is  a superficial  one.  This  picture 
shows  none  of  the  ease  that  is  a characteristic  of  even  his 
early  works,  nor  does  it  exhibit  any  of  the  dramatic  quality, 
expressed  either  by  the  actions  or  in  the  faces  of  the  figures, 
that  is  another  most  noticeable  feature  of  his  work.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  one  seeks  for  similarities  to  Giorgione’s  work, 
they  are  most  readily  found.  Details  and  style  coincide 
closely  with  his  pictures.  The  shape  of  the  Virgin’s  head  and 
the  manner  in  which  the  hair  is  drawn  over  the  brow  are 
nearly  identical  with  what  one  sees  in  the  Uffizi  panels  or 
the  Castelfranco  picture.  The  sharply  marked  eyelids,  the 
richly  modelled  mouth  and  long  nose,  are  strongly  resemblant 


Plate  LXIX. 


GIORGIONE 


205 


to  the  same  features  in  the  Castelfranco  Madonna,  the  Giova- 
nelli  Gypsy,  the  Uffizi  panels,  and  the  Knight  of  Malta. 

Notice,  too,  the  large  hand,  the  feet  of  the  child  with  the 
strongly  developed  toes  which  are  just  what  one  finds  in  Gior- 
gione’s works.  So,  also,  the  landscape  with  its  plumelike  trees, 
and  the  slim  figure  seated  on  the  grass  is  such  as  one  finds  in 
many  of  his  works,  but  not  so  often  in  those  of  Titian.  Finally, 
and  of  more  importance  than  separate  details,  is  the  fact 
that  the  peaceful  spirit  of  the  group,  the  undramatic,  un- 
Titianesque  quality,  is  exactly  what  is  most  characteristic 
of  Giorgione.  Titian,  when  he  painted  the  Christ  Child, 
even  in  his  earliest  days,  painted  a figure  more  representing 
the  infant  Hercules  than  the  Salvator  Mundi.  Invariably, 
He  leaps  about  in  his  Mother’s  arms,  and  though  the  small 
chubby  face  may  be  keenly  intelligent,  there  is  hardly  ever  a 
suggestion  of  the  imaginative  powers  and  prophetic  instinct 
of  the  Reformer.  It  is  here  that  Giorgione  shows  his  very 
exceptional  genius,  for  he  was  able  to  depict  a purely  human 
man  child  in  such  wise  that  were  the  figures  cut  from  his  can- 
vases, no  one  could  mistake  them  for  mere  ordinary  offspring. 

Giorgione  used  none  of  the  affected  graces  or  sentimentali- 
ties of  Raphael,  nor  did  he  depend  upon  such  weirdness  as 
Leonardo  chose;  as  a result,  his  figures  are  as  much  more 
satisfying  to  the  inquiring  intellect  as  a living  fountain  is 
compared  with  the  mirage  of  the  desert.  His  means  are  simple. 
There  is  no  exaggeration  of  action,  as  in  the  Titian  Child, 
but  all  is  essentially  delicate  and  infantine.  There  is  no  ex- 
aggeration of  expression,  but  a slightly  dreamy,  far-away 
look  as  of  powers  still  unwakened,  and  one  feels,  as  before  no 
other  representations  of  the  Child,  that  such  as  He  might 


206 


STUDIES 


attain  to  even  Calvary.  Taken  in  connection  with  the 
agreement  of  the  details,  this  spiritual  similarity  of  the  work 
to  others  that  we  know  are  by  Giorgione  must  give  him  pause 
who  should  think  to  name  Titian  as  the  author.1 

Another  picture  which,  I believe,  deserves  more  attention 
than  has  yet  been  given  it  hangs,  under  the  name  of  Giovanni 
Bellini,  in  the  Museo  Correr  in  Venice.  The  picture  repre- 
sents the  dead  Christ,  seated  on  the  edge  of  the  tomb,  upheld 
by  three  angels.  In  the  background  is  a landscape,  with  a 
church  on  the  right.  It  is  painted  on  a panel  about  four  feet 
high.  The  Anonimo  Morelli  says  that  in  the  year  1530  in 
the  house  of  Gabriel  Vendramin : “El  Cristo  morto  sopra  el 
sepolcro,  con  l’Anzolo  che  el  sostenta,  fu  de  man  de  Zorzi  da 
Castelfranco,  reconzato  da  Tiziano.”  The  picture  in  the 
Correr  Museum  represents  this  same  scene,  but  there  are 
three  angels  instead  of  one.  This  difference  between  the 
picture  and  the  description  need  not  make  us  hesitate  to  con- 
sider the  question  whether  Giorgione  was  the  author  of  the 
work,  if  there  are  other  reasons  to  render  such  authorship 
possible. 

Any  one,  however,  who  has  used  early  books  such  as  the 
Anonimo  knows  how  very  inaccurate  the  authors  often  were 
and  any  one  who  has  studied  Italian  painting  knows  that  to 
represent  the  dead  Christ  held  by  only  one  angel  is  entirely 
contrary  to  precedent  and  practice.  The  present  condition 

1 Since  writing  the  above  I have  been  pleased  to  have  Signor  Venturi  tell  me  that 
he,  too,  considered  the  work  to  be  by  Giorgione.  He  does  not  agree  with  me  about 
the  Benson,  Beaumont  and  National  Gallery  Holy  Families,  but  he  does  not 
share  the  Catena  theory  of  their  origin.  His  full  views  will  unquestionably  be  pro- 
pounded in  his  forthcoming  edition  of  Vasari’s  Life  of  Giorgione.  Cook  also  thinks 
this  Virgin  is  by  Giorgione.  Venturi’s  views  on  Giorgione  are  indicated  in  the 
Galleria  Crespi,  p.  133  f. 


GIORGIONE 


207 


of  the  work  is  such  that  it  is  impossible  to  say  whether  it  was 
ever  raconzato  da  Tiziano  or  not.  It  is  a mere  wreck.  That 
there  are  distinct  resemblances  to  Bellini’s  work  is  not  to  be 
denied,  but,  if  I mistake  not,  there  exist  even  stronger  ones 
to  that  of  Giorgione.  A slight  stiffness  in  drawing,  a certain 
archaism  in  drapery,  is  just  what  one  would  expect  to  find  in 
the  work  of  Bellini’s  pupil.  In  the  modelling  and  action  of 
the  figures,  however,  there  are  evidences  of  an  attempt  at 
freedom  of  design  such  as  are  rare  in  Bellini’s  work.  Four 
works  of  Bellini  occur  at  once  as  criteria  for  judging  the 
quality  of  the  one  under  discussion  — the  Pieta  in  the  Brera, 
one  in  the  Mond  collection  in  London,  one  in  Rimini,  and  one 
in  the  Berlin  Gallery.1  None  of  these  show  the  slender, 
rather  unmodelled  hands  of  the  Correr  picture ; none  presents 
so  vivid  a picture  of  Death.  In  none  except  the  one  at  Rimini 
are  the  secondary  figures  really  supporting  the  Christ,  — 
the  body  does  not  show,  as  in  the  Correr  picture,  the  relaxation 
of  death,  and  in  the  Rimini  picture  the  angels  are  much  more 
playfully  treated  than  in  the  Correr  panel.  The  Bellini  pic- 
tures are  deeply  touching,  but  to  me  there  seems  an  even 
nobler  and  more  moving  sentiment  in  the  work  which  I fain 
would  attribute  to  Giorgione,  and  it  is  just  such  a sentiment 
as  the  painter  of  the  Vicenza  Christ  might  have  suggested. 

The  heads  of  the  figures  of  the  dead  Christ  in  the  works  of 
Bellini  are  without  exception  represented  as  asleep.  In  the 
Correr  picture  one  sees  more  than  sleep  in  the  closed  eyes  and 
drawn  mouth  of  the  Saviour.  There  is  death  — but  death, 
the  tragedy,  so  combined  with  a yearning,  soul-compelling 

1 1 leave  out  the  one  with  the  forged  monogram  of  Albert  Diirer  in  the  Correr 
Museum,  for  it  is,  I believe,  by  no  means  sure  that  Bellini  was  the  painter. 


STUDIES 


208 

sadness,  that  the  face  can  never  be  forgotten  by  whoso  once 
has  seen  it,  and  this  is  spiritual  life.  Scarcely  any  other 
artist  ever  equalled  Giorgione,  and  none  certainly  ever  sur- 
passed him,  in  the  power  of  representing  the  members  of  the 
Holy  Family.  There  are  many  fine  presentations  of  Christ 
bearing  the  Cross,  but  none  so  imaginative  as  the  Vicenza 
picture.  For  there  we  see  in  the  sensitive  face,  the  direct 
eye,  and  steady  earnest  mouth,  the  signs  of  completed  power 
over  self,  while  in  the  tear  drop  that  sparkles  on  the  cheek 
is  the  sign  of  suffering  that  broke  the  body,  whose  soul  it 
could  not  quell  — for  neither  brow  nor  eye  are  those  of  one 
who  weeps.  The  Correr  painting  contains  a similar  double 
suggestion.  Two  details  there  are  also  which  bear  out  the 
idea  that  Giorgione  is  the  author.  One  is  the  technique  which 
so  far  as  can  be  seen  is  of  the  rich,  smooth,  carefully  shaded 
kind,  peculiar  to  Giorgione’s  work.  The  other  is  the  land- 
scape in  which  the  low  horizon  line  and  the  plumy  trees  cor- 
respond closely  to  his  certain  works.  Wreck  though  it  be, 
and  possibly  only  a copy  of  the  original,  it  is  worth  study  by 
students.1 

A smaller,  but  fortunately  much  more  perfectly  preserved, 
work  hangs  in  the  London  Gallery  under  the  name  of  School 
of  Giorgione.  It  represents  a bearded  man  on  a throne  and 
other  figures  in  an  open  landscape.  Whoever,  unafraid  of  find- 
ing something  unexpected,  looks  at  this  picture  with  critical 
eye,  will,  I think,  realise  that  it  is  not  a school  work,  but  by 
the  master  himself.  It  is  very  carefully  wrought  in  design  and 

1 Before  the  earthquake  I saw  in  the  Gallery  at  Messina  a picture  by  Antonello 
da  Messina  the  composition  of  which  is  practically  identical  with,  and  must  be  the 
origin  of,  the  Correr  panel.  Whether  the  Messina  picture  still  exists  or  was  de- 
stroyed I do  not  know. 


GIORGIONE 


209 


execution,. as  a youthful  work  would  be  likely  to  be,  and  as  the 
two  Florence  panels  are.  The  rich  clear  colours  and  the  bright 
sunshine  spread  over  the  scene,  are  such  as  are  found  in  the 
Florence  panels,  the  Kingston  Lacy  picture,  those  in  Vienna, 
and  the  Virgin  of  Castelfranco.  The  landscape  is  typically 
Giorgionesque,  closed  in  as  it  is  in  the  foreground,  and  opening 
into  a middle  distance  of  rich  meadows,  enlivened  here  and 
there  with  tall  steep-roofed  houses.  The  rich  detail  and 
broad  chiaroscuro  find  their  counterpart  over  and  over  again 
in  Giorgione’s  work;  and  finally,  who  but  Giorgione  ever 
presented  to  our  delighted  eyes  a scene  so  simple,  so  dream- 
like, so  poetic,  so  defined,  and  yet  so  difficult  to  understand  ? 
It  is  a dream  picture,  rendered  with  the  utmost  clearness  of 
vision.  It  is  only  the  masters  who  can  do  this  — only  Gior- 
gione and  Keats  and  such  rare  spirits  who  can  put  in  terms 
for  the  ordinary  plodding  mortal  to  grasp,  the  evanescent 
visions  of  the  mind. 

Of  very  different  character  is  the  portrait  of  a youth  in  a 
large  hat  in  the  Vienna  Gallery.  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle 
attribute  this  to  Morto  da  Feltre.  It  was  impossible  for  me 
to  see  the  original  when  I was  in  Vienna,  but  study  of  an  ex- 
cellent photograph  makes  me  doubt  this  attribution.  If  I 
mistake  not,  the  picture  might  be  a copy  of  a portrait  by 
Giorgione.  The  treatment  of  the  landscape  is  sufficient  to 
show  that  Giorgione’s  hand  did  not  touch  the  work  itself, 
but  scarcely  any  other  than  Giorgione  can  have  originated 
this  grave  sweet  face  with  the  steady  eyes. 

To  close  this  necessarily  unsatisfactory  part  of  my  subject, 
there  is  the  etching  by  H.  van  der  Borcht  which  quite  pos- 
sibly is  copied  from  a lost  Giorgione.  It  represents  a woman 


210 


STUDIES 


seated  upon  a dead  warrior,  and  below  the  figures  are  the 
words  Giorgione  inv.1  It  seems  not  unlikely  that  it  pre- 
serves for  us  one  of  the  frescoes  long  since  faded  from  some 
palace  wall  in  Venice.  It  is  but  the  echo  of  a voice  that  is 
still,  but  even  as  such  it  means  much. 

If  now  my  arguments,  in  the  foregoing  discussion,  are  based 
upon  sound  reason  rather  than  upon  theory,  it  results  that  the 
following  are  the  works  by  which  we  must  judge  Giorgione’s 
genius,  and  that  these  must  serve  as  a standard  for  further 
study  of  his  work : 

1.  Vienna,  David  (copy). 

2.  Vienna,  Three  Philosophers. 

3.  Vienna,  Gypsy  Madonna. 

4.  Vienna,  Portrait  of  a Youth  (copy  ?). 

5.  Venice,  Fondaco  dei  Tedeschi.  (The  engravings  can  be  used  in 

giving  suggestions  of  Giorgione’s  methods  of  composition.) 

6.  Venice,  Chiesa  di  San  Rocco,  Christ  carrying  the  Cross. 

7.  Venice,  Giovanelli  Palace,  Soldier  and  Woman. 

8.  Venice,  Correr  Museum,  Pieta  (copy  ?). 

9.  Castelfranco,  Madonna  Enthroned. 

10.  Dresden,  Venus. 

11.  Kingston  Lacy,  Judgment  of  Solomon. 

12.  Buda  Pesth,  Birth  of  Paris  (copy). 

13.  Florence,  Uffizi,  Judgment  of  Solomon.. 

14.  Florence,  Uffizi,  Fire-test  of  Moses. 

15.  Florence,  Uffizi,  Knight  of  Malta. 

16.  Boston,  Mrs.  Gardner,  Head  of  Christ. 

17.  London,  National  Gallery,  Study  for  figure  of  San  Liberale. 

18.  London,  National  Gallery,  Epiphany. 

19.  London,  National  Gallery,  David  and  Solomon. 

20.  London,  Mr.  Beaumont  (Lord  Allandale),  Shepherd’s  Offering. 

21.  London,  Mr.  Benson,  Holy  Family. 

22.  St.  Petersburg,  Hermitage,  Judith. 

At  first  sight  it  may  seem  that  there  is  more  variety  of 
style  in  these  pictures  than  the  works  of  any  one  artist  would 

1 Justi’s  book  contains  a reproduction  of  the  engraving.  A copy  of  the  engrav- 
ing is  owned  by  Mr.  C.  F.  Murray  of  London. 


GIORGIONE 


211 


show,  especially  one  who  died  young.  There  are,  however, 
certain  general  considerations  to  be  clearly  remembered. 
Giorgione  was  born  and  grew  up  in  a time  of  great  discovery, 
when  long-established  thoughts  and  habits  were  rapidly 
changing,  so  that  we  should  commit  a serious  error  were  we  to 
expect  him  to  paint  the  same  subjects,  or  in  the  same  manner, 
as  his  predecessors.  His  works  would  necessarily  be  different 
from  theirs.  He  would  naturally  show  greater  variety  and, 
owing  to  his  youth,  his  style  would  not  have  become  fixed. 
What  is  certain  is  that  his  contemporaries  regarded  him  with 
the  greatest  admiration,  so  the  best  way  to  fit  ourselves  to 
judge  him  is  to  study  the  life  of  Venice  in  his  day. 

It  is  not  much  that  is  left  us  of  the  great  man’s  life  work, 
but  it  suffices  to  show  what  he  was,  not  only  as  a painter,  but 
as  a man ; and  why  his  influence  was  so  great  on  his  contem- 
poraries, and  why  so  long  as  the  human  heart  stays  young  his 
spirit  will  continue  to  call  loudly  to  it.  That  he  was  a per- 
fect colourist,  that  is  to  say,  that  he  understood  how  to  juxta- 
pose the  rich  oriental  colours  of  the  Venetian  palette  in  such 
wise  that  each  tint  emphasised  the  effect  of  all  the  others, 
or  that  as  a draughtsman  he  could  adequately  portray  the 
images  in  his  brain,  does  not  explain  the  effect  he  has  on  those 
who  care  for  him.  These  are  merely  technical  qualities  that 
are  not  difficult  to  acquire,  and  that  many  a man  has  pos- 
sessed. 

It  is  the  spirit  of  Giorgione’s  work  that  makes  him  what  he 
is.  He  spoke  in  the  simplest,  broadest  way  to  the  deeper 
side  of  our  nature.  Not  so  imbued  with  the  ceremonies  of 
religion  as  his  master  Bellini,  nor  so  given  over  to  the  full- 
blooded  joy  in  the  beauties  of  this  world  as  his  comrade  Titian, 


212 


STUDIES 


he  recognised  that  fanaticism  or  sensuality  are  equally  spirit- 
ual death,  and  that  the  whole  and  perfect  soul  must  be  tem- 
pered in  the  fires  of  the  heart,  and  cooled  in  the  breezes  of 
Nature.  No  such  loveable  Madonna  had  been  painted  as 
she  of  Castelfranco,  — no  purer  presentation  exists  of  the 
compelling  beauty  of  the  human  figure  than  his  Venus.  Un- 
abashed “he  held  both  hands  before  the  fire  of  life,”  not 
warming  first  one  and  then  the  other,  but  with  true  poetic 
feeling  combining  every  beauty  that  he  perceived  in  one 
harmonious  song. 

Always  steadily  reaching  for  the  same  goal,  this  even- 
poised  master  did  not  one  day  paint  such  exalted  figures  as 
Bellini’s  Virgin  and  Companion  Saints  in  the  Frari,  and  on 
another  such  heathen  festivities  as  the  same  master’s  Bac- 
chanal. But,  as  he  loved  music  and  pleasant  company  and 
such  pleasantnesses  of  life,  so  in  his  painting  he  shows  us  grace 
and  harmony  and  good  breeding.  And  as  these  things  are 
hard  to  find  in  our  daily  course  and  harder  still  to  fix  long 
enough  to  paint  their  semblance,  he  fashioned  for  himself  a 
world,  an  Arcadia,  where  men  and  women,  surrounded  by 
beautiful  Nature,  lived  together,  enjoying  a life  where  there 
was  both  work  and  play.  In  all  temperate  reason  they  em- 
ploy their  energies  now  on  problems  of  deep  thought,  and  now 
in  the  satisfaction  of  health  and  natural  bodily  enjoyment, 
and  it  is  just  because  of  the  reasonableness  of  this  balance 
of  mind  and  body  that  his  pictures  seem  poetic,  dreamlike 
and  difficult  to  explain.  As  Keats,  more  than  any  scientist 
or  idle  dreamer,  tells  how  the  nightingale  entrances  the  soul, 
so  Giorgione  depicts  the  Virgin  and  her  Child  guarded  by 
attendant  Saints,  or  adored  by  kings  and  slaves,  with  greater 


GIORGIONE 


213 


persuasiveness  than  any  theologian.  But  he  does  this  neither 
as  one  diverted  only  by  the  pageantry,  nor  as  an  historian. 
Endowed  with  a poet’s  instinct,  he  saw  the  deeper  meaning  of 
the  scene  and  depicted  those  parts  that  truly  illustrate  it. 

Other  artists  there  have  been  endowed  with  this  same  in- 
stinct, but  their  works  do  not  obtain  from  us  of  to-day  as  full 
response  as  from  our  forefathers  who  lived  when  they  were 
painted,  and  this  because  they  do  not  give  visual  form  to 
matters  of  lasting  import,  but  to  those  fleeting  affairs  that 
constitute  fashion.  This  is  not  so  of  Giorgione.  The  glory 
of  his  work  will  never  fade,  for  his  appeal  is  to  the  spirit  of 
youth — that  spirit  which  is  compounded  of  a pure  and  nat- 
ural love  in  all  things  beautiful,  be  they  physical  or  spiritual, 
natural  or  divine,  and  with  energy  sufficient  to  urge  it  forward 
to  the  acquisition  of,  and  the  becoming  part  of,  each  and  all 
of  these  various  perfections.  Such  was  Giorgione : neither 
utterly  pagan,  nor  completely  Christian,  but  absolutely  human 
in  the  finest  sense,  in  that  his  perceptions  were  clear  enough 
to  see  the  special  value  of  all  things  beautiful  and  his  technical 
powers  adequate  to  give  due  expression  to  that  which  he 
perceived. 


INDEX 


Alexander,  portraits  of,  82 
allegory  of  Time  and  Truth,  13 
archaeological  study  of  art,  3,  4 
art  as  an  index  of  life,  4,  57,  97,  133,  147 
function  of,  128 

Athena,  head  of,  from  Cyrene,  135  f. 
date  of,  142 
local  work,  149 

beauty,  Greek  love  of,  76 
Bellini  and  Giorgione,  173,  181 
Bellini,  Bacchanal,  190 
Ber-nson,  154,  157,  171,  172 
Bernini,  an  estimate  of,  3 f. 
architectural  work,  40  f. 
classes  of  his  work,  14 
clay  models,  21,  44  f. 
contemporary  honour  for,  6 
designs  for  piazza  of  St.  Peter’s,  50  f. 
early  life  of,  15 

estimate  and  characterization  of,  42 

expression  of  religion,  22 

influence  of,  23 

multiplicity  of  sketches,  19 

originality  of,  20 

portraits  of,  10  f. 

sculptor’s  models,  21  f.,  44  f. 

list  of,  46 
technique  of,  18  f. 
versatility,  40 
Bernini,  works  of, 

dEneas  and  Anchises,  16 
angels,  used  in  architecture,  23  f. 
Apollo  and  Daphne,  7,  17 
Baldacchino  in  St.  Peter’s,  33 
Beata  Albertona,  32 
Cattedra  in  St.  Peter’s,  33 
Daniel  in  the  lions’  den,  29 
David,  16 
fountains,  14,  34 
Habakkuk,  26 


Bernini,  works  of  — Continued 
Maria  di  Magdala,  32,  49 
portraits,  14,  35 

Bishop  Santoni,  37 
Costanza  Buonavelli,  37 
Francis  I,  39 
Louis  XIV,  39 

Mons.  Francesco  Barberini,  39 
Mons.  Montoya,  37 
Paul  V,  38 
Proserpina,  17 
saints,  25 
Santa  Bibiana,  26 
St.  Jerome,  27,  47 
Saint  Theresa,  30,  48 
Truth, 13 

Borghese  pope,  patronage  of,  15 
Borghese  warrior,  17 
Botticelli,  112,  156 

Virgin  and  child  in  Boston,  157 
Brandegee  Collection,  21,  41,  45,  51,  85 
Browning,  69 
Brunn,  H.,  138 
Bupalos  and  Athenis,  77 

Carracci,  3 

Cariani  and  Giorgione,  160,  166 
Catena  and  Giorgione,  177 
draperies  of,  183 

St.  Jerome  (National  Gallery),  178 
Knight  adoring  Infant  Christ,  178, 
182 

Corbulo,  portrait  of,  57,  88 
Cyrene,  sculpture  of,  136  f. 

Dante,  Greek  spirit  in,  113 
Demetrius  of  Alopeke,  84 

Egyptian  portraiture,  60 
sculpture,  61,  140 
emotion  controlled  in  Greece,  103 
evolution  of  art,  4 


215 


2X6 


INDEX 


Farnese  Hercules,  123 
Florentine  portraits,  90 
Furtwaengler,  A.,  138 
Futurists,  140 

Ghirlandaio,  112 
Giorgione,  155  f, 
draperies  of,  183 
life,  159 

list  of  works,  203,  210 
Anonimo  Morelli,  163 
Barri,  164 
Berenson,  171 

Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  168 
Morelli,  169 
Ridolfi,  161 
Vasari,  159 

paintings  attributed  to,  155  f. 
romantic  quality  of,  181 
spirit  of  his  work,  211 
the  true  Giorgione,  172  f. 
treatment  of  landscape,  191 
Giorgione,  works  of, 

Birth  of  Paris  (copy,  Buda  -Pesth), 
196 

Christ  carrying  the  Cross  (San 
Roeco,  Vienna),  184 
David  and  Solomon  (National 
Gallery),  208 

Epiphany  (National  Gallery),  175 
Gypsy  Madonna  (Vienna),  204 
Head  of  Christ  (Gardner  Collection, 
Boston),  185 

Holy  Family  (Benson),  183  f. 
Judgment  of  Solomon  (Kingston 
Lacy),  172  f.,  182 
Knight  of  Malta  (IJffizi),  58,  185 
Madonna  Enthroned  (Castelfranco), 
181 

Pieta  (Venice),  206 
Portrait  (Temple  Newsam),  202 
Portrait  (Vienna),  209 
San  Liberale  (National  Gallery), 
186 

Shepherd’s  Offering  (Lord  Allan- 
dale),  180  f. 

The  Tempest  (Venice),  181 
Three  Philosophers  (Vienna),  181 
Venus  (Dresden),  174, 181 


Giorgione,  works  attributed  to, 
Allegory  (Dresden),  195 
Cassone  pictures  (Padua),  195 
Concert  (Pitti),  188 
Daphne  and  Apollo  (Venice),  194 
Fete  Champetre  (Louvre),  189 
Head  of  Boy  (Hampton  Court),  187 
Judith  (St.  Petersburg),  195 
Madonna  (Madrid),  193 
Madonna  and  Saints  (Louvre),  187 
Nymph  and  Satyr  (Pitti),  187 
Orpheus  and  Eurydice  (Bergamo), 
200 

Portrait  (Berlin),  198 
Portrait  (Borghese),  196 
Portrait  (Buda-Pesth),  197 
Portrait  (from  Crespi  Collection), 

202 

Portrait  (from  Doetsch  Collection), 
201 

Guido,  3 

hair  as  a means  of  dating  sculpture, 
144 

Hipponax,  caricature  of,  77 
humanity  of  the  Greek  gods,  150 

Kresilas,  portrait  of  Pericles,  58, 75,  78  f, 

Laocoon,  123 

Laws  of  sculpture,  7 

Leonardo,  140,  158 

logical  reasoning  about  pictures,  176 

Longinus,  46 

Lowed  on  Lincoln,  69 

lucidity  of  Greek  sculpture,  140 

Lysippus,  portraits  of  Alexander,  82 

“Massacre  of  the  Innocents,”  73 
materials  for  sculpture,  145 
Michael  Angelo  and  Bernini,  16 
Michael  Angelo,  97  f. 

affectation  of  the  period,  119,  120 
complexity  of  his  work,  101,  103 
feeling  for  the  nude  figure,  101 
muscles  emphasized,  120,  123 
period  of,  98,  103,  111 
pupils  of,  122 
sonnets  and  letters,  115 


INDEX 


217 


Michael  Angelo,  works  of, 

Bacchus,  116  f. 

Battle  of  the  Centaurs,  133 
David,  133 
Eros,  116,  118,  120 
Madonna  of  Bruges,  116,  131 
Moses,  100,  102 
Night  and  Dawn,  122 
Pieta  in  St.  Peter’s,  100 
Sistine  Chapel,  121,  125  f.,  132 
Victor,  116 

Morelli  on  Giorgione,  155  f. 

Mourning  Athena,  148 
Myron’s  Discobolus,  17 
mystical  fervour  in  art,  3 

Niobid  group,  73 

nude  figure  felt  under  drapery,  101  f. 

Oberammergau,  31 
origins  of  art,  3 

Pausanias,  138 

Pericles,  portrait  of,  58,  75,  78  f. 
Pheidias  and  Michael  Angelo,  93  f. 
Pheidias,  age  of,  105,  109 
and  Pericles,  110 
influence  of,  94  f. 

Pheidias,  work  of, 

Athena  Parthenos,  131 
Lemnian  Athena,  101,  131 
Parthenon,  3,  132 
frieze,  118 
pediments,  101,  121 
Zeus,  108 

photography  and  art  criticism,  155 
physical  beauty  prized  by  Greeks,  151 
portraits  of  women  and  children,  89 
portraits  made  for  friends,  65 


portraiture,  art  of,  57  f. 
commemorative,  60,  64 
Egyptian,  60 
Florentine,  90 
Greek  and  Roman,  85 
in  language,  66 
in  large  compositions,  62 
in  painting  and  sculpture,  59,  71,  74 
motives  for,  59 
religious,  59 
summary,  91 

Raphael,  Angelo  Doni,  58 
realism,  in  sculpture,  75 
realism,  Greek  and  Roman,  75 
religion  and  art,  104,  106 
Roselli,  156 
Roman  art,  4 
Ruskin,  156 

Scipio,  so-called  bust  of,  57 
Sheik-el-Beled,  57 
Shelley,  66,  68 
Silanion,  83 

technical  peculiarities  in  paintings, 
157  f. 

temple,  significance  of  the  Greek,  106 
Tintoretto,  Greek  spirit  of,  113 
Titian,  Duke  of  Norfolk,  58 
Triton,  47 

“Truth  unveiled  by  Time,”  13 
Turner’s  Rizpah,  67 

violence  in  art,  8 

wealth  and  art,  64,  91 

youth  in  Greek  art,  111 


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